


Bedazzled

by in_chains_and_flesh_and_leather



Category: Bedazzled (1967), Bedazzled (2000), Logan Lucky (2017)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-20
Updated: 2020-12-24
Packaged: 2021-03-07 20:22:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 32,410
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26563561
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/in_chains_and_flesh_and_leather/pseuds/in_chains_and_flesh_and_leather
Summary: Summary: Clyde Logan makes a deal with the Devil for seven wishes in which he gets to create a life with a version of you. Of course, the Devil doesn’t make it easy and they all seem to go wrong somehow.
Relationships: Clyde Logan & Reader, Clyde Logan & You, Clyde Logan/Original Female Character(s), Clyde Logan/Reader, Clyde Logan/You
Comments: 32
Kudos: 30





	1. Intro

Clyde was so fuckin’ happy when you started coming to his bar.

After he came back home from his tours, there was a part of him, a significant part, that thought his life was over.

So much had gone wrong for so many people in his family, he was just constantly sad and drained from this miserable life. Then he loses his hand and returns home to no prospects at all. Who would perceive him as anything but a broke halfwit crippled vet? He couldn’t stand the sight of himself.

Then somehow, someway, imperceptibly, things started changing. Occasionally due to his own aplomb, who knows where that came from, but mostly because Jimmy or Mellie made him do things and he felt an obligation to keep living and working for them.

Then one night, you walked in. Just like that. Like you weren’t making the heavens open up and shattering his heart at the same time. You just came in and ordered a drink. Said the bar was lovely. _Lovely_. His insides were on fire.

For months, he didn’t even entertain the idea of approaching you in any way. He never dared even before his worthless life went to total shit, let alone now.

But you had to tempt him. Had to twist the coils of desire. You would say hi, smile all the way to your eyes, never fail to thank him for the smallest thing, compliment his skills, ask him how he was and even ask follow-up questions, really listening to what little he managed to say before his voice failed him and his whole body shook. You were _divine_.

“Wow, busy night.” – you smiled as you approached the bar.

“Seems so.” – Clyde smiled to himself, feeling tingles creep all over his body at the sound of your voice. – “The usual?”

You nodded, flattered that he remembered your order. It was probably just practice and good memory. – “Thank you.”

You went back to your group of friends and chatted for a while when you spotted a vintage jukebox sitting in one abandoned corner. It was one of those square ones, which was rare, and you fell in love with it instantly. You skipped back over to the bar to ask Clyde about it.

“Hey, is that jukebox over there new? I mean, new to the bar.”

“Yes, it is. It was too pretty to pass up, so I bought it, but it still needs to be fixed up.” – Clyde answered, realizing this was probably the longest string of words he’d said to you.

“Oh, wonderful! My grandparents have a photo in their house of the night when they went out for the first time, dancing with a jukebox just like that one behind them. I haven’t seen one like that in person before. Why am I boring you with this?” – you shook your head, who cares about the photo in your grandparents’ house? Clyde’s lips were already forming a plush O as he tried to say you weren’t boring him at all, but you were too quick. – “Anyway, I just love it, it’s gorgeous. I’ll let you get back to work.” – you excused yourself and went back to your friends.

For the rest of the night, it was your friends who were ordering drinks, so he didn’t get to see you up close. But he enjoyed watching you from afar too, especially when you took a picture of the jukebox and smiled fondly at the image. He could look at you forever.

Soon, your group left and some called him by his name to say goodbye and you made sure to look at him and wave enthusiastically as you left. There was less of a crowd now, so he could afford to take a moment and bask in the dying glow you left behind and feel his heart sink back down from that elevated, amorous place and land in the same oppressive drudgery of your absence.

He sighed heavily, not realizing he verbalized his thoughts. - “I’d give anythin’ to have that woman by my side.”

A loud clang snapped him out of his thoughts and then he felt something knock against his foot. A white billiard ball. He picked it up and examined it, wondering where it came from. For it to end up behind the bar, someone would have had to launch it high into the air and it would have made much more noise. Before he could think about it too much, something else drew his attention.

He looked up to see a beautiful woman in a red dress, standing facing him, leaning on a pool cue and looking hard at him. His mouth fell open, half in shock. He had never seen her before and there is no way he would have missed _her_ coming in. He lifted the ball into the air like someone else was lifting the arm for him, checking if it was hers. She bore her eyes into his and nodded seductively.

Clyde walked over and set the ball on the table wordlessly, feeling uneasy and wanting to get away.

“You here alone?” – the woman asked in a local accent, which also seemed strange; she did not look like someone from around Boone County.

“I um, own the bar.” – Clyde responded, turning back around as if he were ordered to.

“Yer Clyde Logan? I’m Sarah Grayson.” – she extended a hand, grabbing his in a tight grip and shook it.

“Pleased to make yer acquaintance, ma’am.” – Clyde replied, flexing his hand after she released it.

“So ya run this here bar?” – she looked around, making sure to twist and accentuate her curves as she did.

“Yes, ma’am.” – Clyde informed her, trying to look away without seeming rude.

“And the missus don’t mind the late hours?” – Sarah cooed in way that sounded more menacing than inviting.

“Er, no missus.” – Clyde shook his head, unable to peel his eyes off of hers.

“So what was all that eyein’ and smilin’ just then?” – she asked, revealing all her brilliant teeth in a broad grin.

He somehow knew she was talking about you. – “Ya saw that?” – he asked, but then his mouth involuntarily divulged more. – “I ain’t with ‘er.”

“Mh, but you’d like to be.” – she concluded, eyes gleaming way too brightly for the relative darkness of the bar.

“What makes ya say that?” – Clyde asked, feeling exposed; he always thought he had kept his feelings under wraps well.

“I dunno, when a man says he’d give anythin’ to have a certain woman in ‘is life, I just assume she means somethin’ to ‘im.” – Sarah shrugged and diverted her eyes to the balls scattered across the table.

“How d’ya hear that?”

“I have fantastic hearin’. And a host of other equally impressive talents.” – she hit the white ball and sank several others in different corners, as if to prove her point.

Clyde was feeling increasingly uncomfortable and started looking for a way to leave the interaction.

“Let’s go in yer back room so we can talk.” – Sarah ordered rather than asked, standing so close she was virtually pressed up against Clyde.

Clyde wanted to ask how she knew about the back room, but assumed he would be told it was another one of her talents. – “Why’d ya wanna talk to me?”

“I think I have somethin’ to say that you’ll wanna hear. Is that a problem? Ya don’t wanna be alone in the dark with me?” – she asked, now actually pressing her tits into his chest and suddenly making him dizzy with a powerful perfume.

“Um, yer a… very attractive woman…” – Clyde stuttered, trying to answer diplomatically.

“Good then.” – Sarah gripped his hand again and took him to the back room, as if she was the one showing him where it was. Did he leave it unlocked? He usually never did…

He didn’t have time to contemplate much as he suddenly found himself on the little couch, straddled by Sarah, hand on her ass and tongues intertwined. After a bit of struggle, he managed to throw his head back and breathe, but his breath caught when he felt her lubed up hands – how? – reaching into his pants and stroking up and down his cock.

He tried shifting his hips in different directions to signal to her that this was not something he was expecting and to get her off of himself somehow, but it seemed impossible. However he shifted, her thighs squeezed him, tongue working his earlobe, her hand pressing his against her tits.

“Uh, listen, you seem really nice…” - Clyde shut his eyes tightly, trying to focus on getting his words out.

“Mmh, and you seem like someone who’d like to fuck me with this thick cock.” – she shot back, working the tip of his cock _exactly_ how he liked and making him drool precum already.

“I, oh god in heaven, I can’t do this here, I have people in the bar…” – he tried to excuse himself, feeling like she would make him cum in seconds whether he wanted to or not.

“Oh? And would that stop you with that other woman?” – she finally relented and stilled, looking more like a lawyer in a hearing than a woman who was kissing him and working his dick seconds ago.

It took Clyde a moment to reboot his brain and instead of saying how that was none of her business, his head shook no.

“I see. Then I think it’s time we got to business.” – Sarah announced and Clyde flinched, worried about what this woman had in store next.

“What if I told you I have the cataclysmic power to give you anythin’ you ever wanted?” – she asked, looking excited and Clyde had no idea what he was supposed to say.

“What’re ya talkin’ about?” – he asked after a long pause.

“I need to tell ya somethin’ very serious and I need ya to keep an open mind.” – she said and Clyde nodded, eyebrows pinched in confusion and discomfort.

“I’m the Devil.” – she gripped his shoulders and leaned back an arm’s length away to look at him with a deadly serious face.

Clyde looked back, feeling more relieved by the second. She was just some nutjob. Phew. He finally felt like he could move freely and he easily got her off him, zipping up his pants and tucking his shirt back in. – “I think you’ve had too much to drink.”

“I _am_ the Devil!” – she said petulantly, raising her voice and Clyde hoped she would stop before she caught anyone’s attention. – “Satan. Lucifer. Beelzebub. The Prince of Darkness. Rather, the Princess of Darkness.”

“Okay.” – Clyde agreed, thinking it was the best strategy to get her out of here.

“You don’t believe me? You think yer ma and pa just made me up so you’ll be a good li’l boy? Stay outta trouble and not follow Jimmy into any cauliflower schemes?” – Sarah asked, getting closer to him again and he kept stepping away, feeling the hollow pain of panic in his gut hearing her talk about his family. – “Though maybe, considerin’ what y’all done last summer, it didn’t stick too good.” – she shrugged and continued before Clyde could speak. – “But how can you believe in that thing there, on yer finger? Some horseshoe, s’posed to protect ya from me and not believe in _me_? Do ya need me to challenge ya to a fiddlin’ duel?” – she asked and he felt his horseshoe ring getting warmer on his finger.

He was pressed up against the door and it was locked behind him. – “What do I need to do to make ya believe me?”

“Lady, all I wanna do is get ya a cab and make sure ya get home safe.” – Clyde felt his breathing becoming more labored. – “But I don’t know if I can find one that’ll go to Hell this time o’night.”

“Well, lookit you and yer piquant wit.”- Sarah walked up to him and grabbed a handful of his belly, pinching him. – “I can see we’re gonna get along real good.”

“What do ya mean get along – whaddaya want with me?”

“I just want ya to be happy, Clyde.” – she retreated to a respectable distance and started making an effort to make him relax.

“I _am_ happy.” – Clyde cast his eyes down, sure that he wouldn’t convince even a total stranger.

Sarah laughed a truly amused, tinkling laugh. – “Ya don’t hafta lie to me, Clyde. I know what’s in yer heart.” – she said ominously and cocked her head to the side. – “I know ya go home to yer horrible li’l trailer every night and eat some shitty frozen dinner. I know you either drink until you can’t think no more or you think about ‘er and think and think… How beautiful she is, how easy it is to love ‘er. How wonderful it would be if she could love ya back. Kiss ya. Hold ya and play with yer hair as ya rest ya head on her chest and listen to her breathe or hum a song for ya. How she would say she loves ya and trusts ya and yer the best man she ever knew, ever had. How she’d kiss ya all feral and hungry, let ya feel her wet pussy and beg ya to fuck her till she can’t speak no more. Then ya cum all over yerself and feel even worse than before cuz she ain’t there and ya know she ain’t never gonna be.”

Clyde looked at her with horror in his eyes, filling up with tears and he wanted to scream at her to stop, fucking stop right now!

“And ya cry for her. And for you. When yer all alone and sure nobody will know, ya cry at the emptiness of yer existence.”

He shook his head no, half in some feeble denial, half in abject sorrow as his deepest secrets were thrown in his face.

“I told ya I know what’s in yer heart. You could cry. Right. Now.” – Sarah stated confidently and Clyde turned around, feeling his eyes sting some more and hot tears almost spilling out. She lurched after him and held his shoulder to turn him back around. – “Clyde, I’m talkin’ ‘bout reinvention. Takin’ control of yer life once and for all. Ya wanna be liked? How ‘bout loved? How ‘bout respected? How ‘but feared?”

Clyde looked at her for a long time, fearing that he was losing mind for even considering this. – “What’re we talkin’ ‘bout exactly?”

“Ya wanna see how it works, big bear? Wish for somethin’. Anythin’ ya want. Just say the word and it’s yours."


	2. 2

“Go on.” – Sarah encouraged. – “Anythin’ ya want.”

Clyde shrugged, feeling very stupid for even still talking to this woman. – “I, I dunno, lady, all I want is to go home, sleep and have some breakfast.”

“Waddaya want for breakfast?”

“I just want some eggs and bacon.” – he shrugged.

“Alright then, let’s do that.”

*

So Clyde closed up, they went to his trailer, he made his own breakfast and sat with Sarah, who didn’t want any food.

“There ya go. Isn’t it exactly how you like?”

“Er, yes. Cuz I cooked it.” – he grumbled, wondering when this woman was going to leave and let him sleep.

“Now about the wishes…”

Clyde snorted, feeling the bacon crack between his teeth.

“Sweet, superstitious boy, still doesn’t believe me. Would ya rather see me in a form ya recognize more readily?” – she asked getting up and spinning, becoming several feet taller, with red leathery skin and horns and cloven hoofs, setting the entire room on fire. Clyde jumped up, more terrified than ever in his life – being in a truck that blew up seemed like Zen meditation compared to this - looking around, trying to find the best exit.

“But ya see, y’all always go all scared and it’s impossible to talk to ya.” – she spoke, knowing Clyde wouldn’t register any of it, suddenly changing back and extinguishing the flames, the room intact.

Clyde froze, not trusting his senses for a moment, then frantically patted himself down, checking for burns and injuries, to Sarah’s amusement. – “Besides, more of ya men wanna play with me in this body and I get to have much more fun. Lust is one of my favorite sins, by the way, if you ever wanna take a break from wishin’.”

“How the fuck did ya do that?” – Clyde asked, eyes as big as saucers, in a cold sweat.

“Honestly. For the last time, Clyde Logan, I’m the Devil. And I’m here to give ya what ya yearn for. You just gotta sign this and it’s official.” – Sarah told him as a heavy, encyclopedia-like stack of papers materialized in his lap.

“What’s this?” – Clyde muttered, starting to read. – “I, Clyde Logan, hereafter know as The Damned… The _Damned_?” – he balked.

“How ‘bout The Darned then? Don’t get caught up in the jargon, I just gotta call ya somethin’. All it says is that I, the Devil, am giving you seven wishes to use as ya see fit. The next paragraph is ‘bout the payment…”

Clyde looked down, seeing the size of the print progressively getting smaller in each paragraph, but he could still make out what it said. – “I hafta give ya my soul?” – he looked at her in shock. – “I can’t do that.”

“Why not?”

“It’s my soul! I can’t live without my soul!”

“Alright, James Brown, take it easy.” – she sat next to him and he got nervous again, he knew by now this was never good. – “What _is_ yer soul, big bear? Huh?” – she asked, running a hand down his arm.

“It’s…” – he put his hand over his heart. – “No, that’s… It’s the thing that… It floats around yer…” – he motioned above his head, but that was a halo. – “I can’t describe it, but…”

“Listen, handsome. Souls are overrated. It’s the 21st century. What does a soul even do? It didn’t stop people from killing your friends in Iraq, did it? Keeping yours nice and pure never got you anywhere in life. It’s basically a hindrance. It’s like your appendix.” – she slid a hand under his shirt and touched his belly over where his appendix was. – “You’ll never even miss it. All it can do is suddenly fuck ya up and kill ya.” – she whispered, starting to tease his earlobe again. – “Besides…” – her hand started unzipping his pants. – “…there’re much more fun things to do instead of worryin’ ’bout these obsolete notions.”

Clyde caught her hand and moved it away. - “Well, if it’s so worthless, why do ya want it so much?”

“Oh, he’s handsome _and_ clever. I’ll have me some good times with you.” – she wiggled her eyebrows. – “Listen, instead of fightin’ over souls, why doncha think on what I’m offerin’ ya here? Seven utterly fabulous wishes to make yer life what ya always wanted it to be? Who gets to do that? Who gets to start over? And do it seven times? You can be rich, popular, beloved, taller, shorter, smarter, faster – the sky is the limit. And yer hesitatin’? Maybe yer not the man I thought you were. Maybe yer not meant to have that.” – she shrugged, nodding towards his TV, which was somehow on.

“What’s this?” – he asked, but he recognized his bar. It was empty, looking sort of the same, but just a little bit nicer in every way. The wood was freshly painted and shiny, the chairs and stools were newer and looked better, the bar was state-of-the-art. A woman who he would know anywhere was sitting at the bar. You were in a sexy short dress and high heels, looking prettier and fucking hotter than he’d ever seen or imagined you before.

He came up behind you, but he also looked better than he did now. He walked confidently towards you, knowing it was him you were waiting for. He was wearing nice pants and a fitted shirt that he could tell was real fancy and expensive. He grabbed you by the knees and spun you around to face him, finding you already smiling at him radiantly. His hand ran up your thigh and up your dress to your ass and your hands snaked around his waist.

“I missed you so much all day.” – you pouted, looking at him with profound yearning. He could live off of that gaze forever.

“Yeah, my baby missed her teddy bear?” – he teased and you bit your lip, nodding and stretching up to give him a kiss.

He could feel it.

He could fucking feel your soft, warm lips, like you were really right there. He glanced back at his hand holding and squeezing your ass and wondered why he couldn’t feel that, but he realized it was his left hand doing that – he had his hand back! His mouth fell open and then he felt the phantom sensation and taste of your tongue licking into his mouth, coiling around his, even your hums vibrating against his trembling lips.

“Mmh, I love you so much.” – you sighed dreamily as you broke away and flipped your hair back. – “And I’ve been thinking about you. All. Day.” – you smirked, uncrossing your legs and placed them on each side of his hips. His other hand finally touched your thigh and he immediately felt blood surge to his cock at the contact. Your skin so soft and the big muscles under his palm flexing as you gripped him tighter and pulled yourself closer, inviting him to touch you. He slid his hand up, feeling your flesh becoming softer and warmer as he approached your underwear, but then there was no underwear there. He, in the trailer, felt startled, but his avatar was not surprised, letting you palm his erection as he ran his thumb through the slippery flesh and pressed into your clit, watching you lick and bite your lips, breathing hard.

“Ya couldn’t wait till I got home?” – he teased and you moaned, such a pretty sound.

You shook your head. – “I like how you fuck me at the bar.” – you rubbed the denim of his jeans hard and slow over his aching cock, making his hips jerk. – “You can fuck me later at home too.”

“I think I would like that.” – he said with an effort, finally sliding a finger inside you and the real Clyde felt his vision white out at the sensation of feeling you from the inside, warm and wet and pulsating for him.

“Why’re ya showin’ me this?” – he asked, turning away from the screen, fearing he might have a heart attack from all the emotions he was experiencing.

“Just a li’l preview. Ya can have this or whatever else ya want. Ya just gotta wish for it.”

“And ya promise I’ll get ‘er?” – Clyde asked after a pause, accepting he was not strong enough to resist.

“I promise I’ll do everythin’ in my power. Just sign it, Clyde.” – she said a bit more forcefully as he looked at the screen and saw the next morning.

You were wearing one of his old shirts, cooking breakfast and humming his favorite song, looking like a woman well loved, well taken care of and well fucked. He sat by the window, wearing a dopey grin and chewing his thumb, lost in thoughts of you as you sat next him, leaning your head into his shoulder and wrapping his arm around you, using your pretty little fingers to feed him, letting him playfully bite them and lick them clean.

It was this moment, more than the last, that sealed the deal for him. The thought of having you with him every day, loving on him and filling his home with your presence and your love, he would have let Sarah slice his throat open for that.

He calmly walked over and signed the contract, flinching when it disappeared the moment his signature was done.

“Perfect, big bear.” – Sarah got up, getting ready to finally leave. – “So remember, you just say _I want_ and say yer wish. And if for any reason, yer wish’s not what ya wanted it to be, just say _Sarah, get me outta here_ and I’ll bring ya back.”

“Why wouldn’t it be what I imagined?” - Clyde asked, growing suspicious.

“Oh, I just need to give ya a way out, it’s contract mumbo jumbo. All yer wishes are gonna be amazin’. But you’ll find that out as soon as ya make one.” – she rubbed her hands expectantly.

“So… I should make one now?” – Clyde asked, unsure of what to do.

“If ya don’t mind. I got places to be, people to condemn to an eternity of fiery torment, all that Devil stuff.”

Clyde felt tremendous jitters. This was insane, it was unbelievable, he would either pass out or wake up or something, any minute now. – “Lemme think… I… I wanna be married to ‘er.”

“Ya got it.” – Sarah smiled, grinning at him, waiting for more.

Clyde felt happy tears welling up in his eyes from hearing that. – “Er, and rich. I wanna be very rich. And powerful. I wanna be able to give ‘er anything she wants. How… how’s that sound?” – he asked, unsure of how much he could ask for.

“Sounds good to me, big bear. Enjoy.” – Sarah snapped her fingers and everything went black.


	3. 3

_TW: implications of war crimes_

The darkness cleared and Clyde awoke in a huge bed, slowly opening his eyes against the light pouring in from the windows.

His heart was pounding as he slowly turned around, thinking you were there, but he was alone in the bed. He did have a sinking feeling in his gut when he realized he was alone, but he fought against it, not letting it ruin this moment. You were married, he would see you sooner than later.

For now, he inspected his surroundings. The house seemed huge and well-furnished and decorated, like one of those things from a catalogue.

He lived here? Holy shit.

He went around, looking at the paintings and pictures on the wall, stumbling upon one from your wedding. He immediately choked up seeing you in your dress, you looked like an absolute angel. He wished he could remember that day, but maybe he would in the future? Is that how this worked? Either way, as long as it happened and you are together. He spared a moment to look at himself on his wedding day – his hair was cropped, face stern, military insignia across his uniform.

He looked in the mirror; his hair was now graying, he seemed to be a few years older. Again, he didn’t care, didn’t care about anything but his life with you.

Someone came running up the stairs and he recognized Jimmy.

“Why aren’t you ready? Did you just get up? Clyde, you have a meeting in… less than two hours.” – Jimmy looked at him with panic in his eyes, but Clyde just smiled and hugged him.

“Jimmy… Where is my wife?” – Clyde asked, grinning.

“She’s… out somewhere. With Joe, I think.” – Jimmy looked confused about Clyde’s easy-going demeanor.

Looking around the house, at the TV, the phone, computer – he could tell this was not the current year. It all still had a whiff of the ‘90s about it, it felt like the early 2000s. He amused himself by thinking that by the time he reaches the same point in time he just left, he’ll be… close to 60 probably. Would you guys have kids? Do you have kids _already_? Maybe he’ll be a grandpa…

He didn’t have a chance to contemplate more because he saw you on the balcony and approached you fast, in long strides, joy shaking his bones.

Without preamble, he crushed around you in a hug, holding you so close and tight you couldn’t move an inch . –“Hey—oh, hello.” – your voice came muffled into his shoulder.

He held your neck and the back of your head gently, kissing along your hair, temple, cheek, bringing your hand to his lips and pressing a soft kiss into your palm, feeling light like a feather.

“What’s wrong with you? Are you nervous about your meeting?” – you asked, seeming surprised at his behavior.

He stopped and looked into your eyes. You were a bit older than before too. He loved it. - “I just love you so much.” – he stated simply, still just letting his eyes roam all over your face, his wife’s face, even if you did look confused. – “Do I tell you that enough? I hope I tell you that every day.” – he rambled, more to himself than to you.

You continued looking at him through narrowed eyes, not completely relaxing in his hold until realization dawned in your eyes. – “Oh. Yeah, you must be freaking out about the guy coming over. I’m sure… it’ll be… alright, you know?” – you patted him on both shoulders awkwardly. Maybe affection didn’t come as naturally to you as it did to him?

He smiled warmly to himself, looking forward to the adventure of softening you up and spoiling you with affection. – “Give me a kiss.”

You gave him a perfunctory lip smack and smoothed his shorter hair into place, sighing, looking like you finally understood that he needed some contact. He must not be as attentive in this version of his life as he should be, you’re acting almost like a stranger. He would change that, it would be fine, he had a whole lifetime ahead of him to do it. – “Listen. People have… figured out… worse things than this, okay?”- you struggled to say something encouraging. – “Just do your General thing, don’t let him pin you down and you’ll be fine.”

Clyde wasn’t really listening to what you were saying too closely, he was lost in that supportive, calming gaze you were giving him – you were comforting and taking care of him and that was what he wanted all along. – “Let’s go out somewhere. Just you and me.”

You gave him another confused, concerned look. – “So you think the meeting will end soon? I thought…”

Clyde chuckled, he couldn’t care less about that. He’ll cut it short and spend the rest of the day with you. – “I just wanna be with my wife.”

He registered some suspicion in the way you considered his words, eyebrows furrowed and some sort of sadness too. – “Okay, whatever you want.” – you nodded, standing up and saying you had to go.

*

He got ready for the day, a suit was already laid out for him, and went around the house briefly, trying to learn more about his life.

A hand ran sideways over his shoulders and he turned around assuming it was you. He almost hugged the strange woman before he jerked to a stop and began mumbling out an apology.

“I just wanted to come see you and wish you good luck today.” – she smiled at him, Clyde recognizing her as Mellie’s friend who worked at her salon, although he didn’t know who she was in this life.

“Oh. Um, thank you. That’s… nice.” – he hoped his answer was appropriate and it must have been because the blonde lady he had spoken to half a dozen times in life wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him. Kissed him real good. Tongue and butt wiggles, fingers in his hair, the whole thing. He was taken aback, not managing to move and just stood there as she kissed him.

“What’s wrong?” – she asked pulling back, revealing lipstick smeared around her lips and Clyde assumed he should also clean himself. – “Ugh, is it your wife? The fuck she do now?” – she asked, rolling her eyes.

He flexed his jaw so hard it hurt. Who _the fuck_ was this woman to be talking about you like that?

She seemed to take his angry face as being directed at you and not her, caressing the side of his face. – “Don’t let her get in your head, okay? She’ll be busy with _Joe_ …” – she rolled her eyes and took his hand, bringing it to her lips. – “…and I’ll be waiting and praying for you. You’ll get through this. You didn’t get this far in life by letting people take you down.” – she held his hand against her chest and looked genuinely honest and loving as she told him these odd things.

“Th—Thank you.” – Clyde replied, wishing he had it in him to say something nicer to this woman, but he just didn’t. A terrible feeling enveloped him and he left in a hurry, searching for you.

He found you talking on the phone with somebody, giggling and biting on a nail, like a schoolgirl with a crush. He stood in the doorway and waited until you spotted him.

“Er, gotta go, I’ll call you later.” – you slid your phone shut and hung up, looking at Clyde, waiting for him to talk.

Something came over him, a powerful jealousy and profound disappointment and the question was out before he knew what he was even trying to ask. – “Was that Joe?”

“Yyyyeah?” – you dragged out, feeling strangely exposed and embarrassed. You never really discussed him.

Clyde searched your face for a long time, stomach twisting into painful knots. – “Do ya love him?” - he asked in a small, timid voice you weren’t at all used to hearing from high and mighty General Clyde Logan.

You honestly felt bad for him, he must be going through some turmoil with all this military court stuff looming. I mean, yeah, you kinda did? You don’t just carry on a relationship with someone for years and not love them after a while.

Besides, what did he want with you _now_? He was gone for most of your relationship and marriage and, yes, he was upset when he first found out about Joe, but then he moved on, had himself mistresses too if he pleased and you didn’t really bring up the topic anymore. And didn’t you just see that blonde chick that works with Mellie drive through your gate? You assumed they would be together.

She really treated him well and you were on friendly terms; if Clyde’s rank were lower, it would be much less of an embarrassment to get a divorce and you could both be with the people that made you the happiest. Barring that, the don’t ask, don’t tell arrangement you had was the next best thing. So what was he doing now?

“What’s really on your mind?” – you asked compassionately, while also trying to dodge the question. – “Is it this thing with General Taguba?”

What was on Clyde’s mind was you, always you, and how your relationship managed to get so messed up. Hold on. Taguba? That sort of rang a bell. Taguba, Taguba… General…

Oh god. No. No, no, no.

“Was I… recently in Iraq?” – Clyde asked, pale as a sheet.

You looked at him, honestly, like he was an idiot. – “Are you feeling okay? Is this some kind of insanity defense thing?” – you asked instead of answering yes or no.

“Do the names Janis or Lynndie ring a bell?” – he asked, hoping with all his might they didn’t.

“Clyde, of course I know them, you talk all the time.” – you deadpanned.

Shit! – “You know what? This is… this is some bullshit right ‘ere! Y’know? I think I really fucked up.” – he shook his head, panic taking over him.

“Stop, stop that. You’ll figure something out. Come here.” – you tried to soothe him, but Clyde could tell you really didn’t know what the fuck you were talking about here. Worse yet, if you did, he didn’t want to know that. He’d prefer to think you didn’t.

“No, no, no, you don’t understand. This is all fucked, it’s terrible! I think I did some _real_ bad stuff. Real bad doesn’t even begin to describe it. And I am _not_ staying here.”

You didn’t like what he was saying, you were hoping he wasn’t planning on doing something stupid.

“But before I go, I’m gonna promise ya I’ll make this work. I don’t know what I did to fuck up our marriage this time, but I love you and I’ll make it work somehow. And I’m sorry if I made ya feel bad.” – he took your face in his hands, wanting to remember how you looked. – “Do ya think we coulda made it work?”

“Clyde, I…” – you didn’t know what to say to him; you had wished so many times, for so many years he would behave like this.

“I gotta kiss ya before I go.” – he said, almost apologizing since he now knew you didn’t exactly feel for him what he expected you would. He kissed you hard and felt you meld into him, a spark of hope igniting that things could be fixed in these alternate universes, just not this one right now. – “Sarah!” – he yelled, pulling back from you. – “Get me outta here!”

*

He was in his trailer, landing on his couch, Sarah sitting in a suit across from him, smoking a fat cigar.

“Back so soon?”

“What the fuck was that?”- Clyde hollered, which was unlike him, at a lady, which was even less like him. Sarah raised one eyebrow in question and he continued. – “She hated me, I think. At some point, fer sure. And she was cheatin’ on me. I was cheatin’ on her! And, Jesus Christ, was… was I in Abu Ghraib?” – he asked in a quiet voice and she nodded, like it was nothing. – “I was in Abu fuckin’ Ghraib? Are you out of your goddamn mind?”

Sarah blew smoke and shrugged. – “I don’t make the rules, Clyde. Wishin’ is tricky business. What you asked for was marriage, money and influence. Given your military career, this made sense. Is it my fault so many of those GI Joe types are scumbags?”

Clyde was too astounded to speak, mulling her words over in his head. Once he had accepted this was a malevolent force and she didn’t care about anything in the way he did, he composed himself a little. – “Well, when I say I wanna be married to ‘er and prosperous, I assume we’re in love and I’m a good person.” – he buried his face in his hand, not even going near the torture stuff.

“Ah! Well, there’s your mistake, big bear. Ya gotta be real clear and specific with this thing, or yer gonna get cucked and court marshaled.”

He grumbled, not looking up, afraid that he wouldn’t be able to put these wishes to good use.

“Can I tell ya somethin’?” – she asked, biting the end of her cigar, not waiting for him to respond. – “This whole _we’re married and rich_ thing never really pans out. Everyone asks for that first and somethin’ always goes wrong.”

“Cuz money’s the root of all evil?” – Clyde asked in a sad voice. – “I gotta ask t’be poor?”

“No! The problem is yer askin’ for what ya _think_ she wants. You think she wants ya t’be rich and powerful and then she’ll like ya.”

Clyde finally peered from between two fingers. Yes. That’s right.

“No. That’s wrong.” – Sarah put her cigar out on his carpet and he rolled his eyes.

“C’mon naw.”

“Ya gotta figure out what she _specifically_ wants in a man.”

“And how do I do that?” – he asked, feeling hopeless.

“With my help, of course.” – Sarah grinned and walked over to him, pulling him up roughly. – “Shame your last trip ended so soon, I woulda liked to join you for a spell over there in the desert. But now I’ll take ya somewhere real nice, a place yer gonna like a whole lot.”


	4. 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> NSFW

****

[Masterlist for this and other stuff on Tumblr](https://in-silks-and-flesh-and-leather.tumblr.com/post/625992026453917696/masterlist)

*

They materialized in a cramped dark space, all sorts of things poking into Clyde’s backside, face, stomach…

“Where’re we now?” – he asked, sticking out his hand and feeling for something.

“A place yer sad behind ain’t never woulda seen without my help. Her bedroom.”

Clyde had stepped out of your closet, but the moment he heard that, he tried to get back in.

“What’re ya doin’?” – Sarah asked, amused by him crouching and trying to make himself as small as possible. – “If yer worried about ‘er seein’ ya, she won’t. She could bump into ya and she wouldn’t feel it. Yer as invisible as me, big bear.”

Clyde weighed her words, not sure if he fully believed her. What if only she was invisible and then you saw him? In yer bedroom no less?

Sarah sighed, rummaging unabashedly around the room. – “Why would I do somethin’ like that? It’s in my best interest that this excursion work out for ya.”

“Git outta my head.” – Clyde mumbled, looking around your room, taking it in. – “Can I… go into other rooms?”

“Sure. But focus. We’re lookin’ for a diary. Or a text chain with a best friend. Somethin’ that’ll tell us what she wants in a man.”

“Uh huh…” – Clyde hummed absent-mindedly, already looking around your living room, trying to get a different feel for you from how you chose to decorate. He thought everything looked wonderful, though he would have thought the same if he found you in a mansion or in a hovel. As long as you were there. – “Where, uh, do ya think we should look?” – Clyde asked after the silence stretched too long and he realized he did nothing but ghost his fingers over your pictures and books and discarded clothes.

“Drawers, under the mattress maybe… Or in the bathroom? Perhaps ya’d like a li’l peek? See what’s in store for ya?”

“What do ya mean?”

“I mean ya girl’s in there now. Showerin’. Naked.” – she wiggled her brows. Clyde stood still, feeling like he was massively intruding and infringing on your privacy. – “Aw, go on now, we both know ya want to.”

“No. I. Don’t.” - Clyde lied. – “I’m not some pervert tryna spy on…”

“Easy, big bear. Course yer not a pervert. Ya’ve literally been ‘er husband just now. Nothin’ you ain’t seen before, in a way.”

Clyde still hesitated, although he appreciated the rationalization.

“Ya know what, fine, don’t. I serve ‘er up, all moist and glistenin’ on a platter and he has qualms. Ah, here we are!” – she produced a pretty little notebook victoriously.

“What’s that?”

“It’s her journal. There’s gotta be somethin’ we can use here.”

Sarah set about reading you very personal thoughts from the journal you kept on and off throughout high school and Clyde was working up to joining her when you came out of the shower, wrapped in a towel and walked straight towards him.

“God almighty!” – he went rigid, eyes wide, thinking of some kind of apology when you walked straight _through_ him, like he was air.

“Told ya she couldn’t see ya.” – Sarah said in a bored voice, not looking up from your journal.

Clyde stood planted where he was, watching you with his mouth hanging open as you dressed. You back was turned to him as you took off the towel and put on a bra, adjusting yourself to be comfortable in it, making Clyde smile fondly – he rarely got to see something like this, just a woman getting ready, perfunctory, not for the male gaze. Then you slipped on your panties, fingers hooked along the top, running over your hips and belly, smoothing them and wiggling your hips a little. Finally you turned, hands on hips, puffing one cheek up with air, then the other, thinking about what you wanted to wear.

Clyde didn’t have time to see what you chose as Sarah proclaimed she had it.

“Here it is. She wants someone sensitive, who listens and has a good, responsible head on his shoulders. So many guys are reckless and selfish, only able to think about the immediate future and what they want. It’s so tirin’ to just give and give and never be seen and heard. Oof, bitter.” – Sarah’s lips drooped at the corners, making a funny disgusted face, failing to mention these were the immature ramblings of a hormonal teen.

Clyde nodded gently up and down, thinking about your words and how to give you exactly what you want. – “Alright, lemme give ‘er that. I wish to be her dream man. I wanna be the most sensitive man ever.”

Sarah listened and licked her lips. – “Mh, okay.”

Clyde’s eyes snapped in her direction, not liking the satisfied look on her face. – “The most _emotionally_ sensitive man, Sarah.”

“Shit, I was hopin’ ya wouldn’t catch that. You just gotta ruin my fun.”

“And responsible. Someone who takes care of ‘er. With values and morals. Who pays attention to her, notices everythin’.”

“Good. That’s really specific and concrete.” – Sarah encouraged.

“And I want ‘er to love me. I want to ‘er to be _in love_ with me.”

“Ah, there ya go! Very good!” – she smiled. – “Is that it?”

“I mean, yeah. I think so.” – Clyde chewed on his lower lip, hoping this was clear enough and that things would work out this time.

*

When he came to again, he was on the back of a bike, holding you around the waist and riding through some scenic stretch of road close to the lake.

He had on a helmet, but he could tell you didn’t. Your hair was whipping into his line of sight and he tried not to squeeze his thighs around you too tight, fearing he’ll make you lose balance and crash.

You released one side of the handlebar to hold his hand, which was wrapped around the prosthetic one, gripping you stiffly. Did he fucking forget to ask for his hand back again? Gah!

You smiled to yourself, he was fine a moment ago, but some overbearing thought must have sparked in his head again because he suddenly tensed up. – “Don’t worry, muffins, we’re almost there.” – you yelled back to him, but his nerves aren’t settled. 

He tried to enjoy the warm spot of your body resting against his in the crisp mountain air, the faint smell of your leather jacket and he closed his eyes, to shut out the world whizzing by, trying to focus on the rhythmic lull of the bike occasionally swerving.

When you stopped and leaned slightly for him to get off, he found he had been clenching _everything_ so tight the entire time that his legs felt like jelly.

“Aww, it never gets easier, huh?” – you leaned your head sympathetically, watching your wall of a boyfriend shake from head to toe. Given his prosthetic arm and, you assumed trembling, hand, you had to help him get the helmet off. First you slid the visor up to look into his owlish eyes, chuckling to see them always so wide, even as he tried to play it cool. – “You made it, muffins! See, we’re alive.” – you comforted him and stood on your toes to pull the helmet off his head.

His hair flew all out of place and you ran your fingers through it, trying to adjust it to the way it was before. – “These things are so annoying, I’m looking forward to the day you finally ditch it.”

He took a deep breath, trying to steady his stupid nerves, but you couldn’t wait for that. You slid an arm under his and hooked your hand on his shoulder, the other hand grasping around his neck to pull him down, planting a wet, passionate kiss on him. It brought to mind the old Times Square picture with the sailor smooching a nurse, except he was the hapless recipient and you the dominating party. He relaxed into it, welcoming the caress of your lips, a little dry from the wind, and the slinky warmth of your tongue teasing his. He took the side of your face into his hand, holding you in place and deepened the already hot kiss, feeling you out, marveling at the way you taste and feel, only returning to the present moment when a long moan crept out from deep in his bones and reverberated through the kiss, feeling embarrassed at how fully he let himself go.

This was your first real kiss, he realized, initiated by you no less, and it was so beautiful, his heart felt like it could burst. He pulled back, heart skipping a beat at the satisfying pop of your wet lips separating, and looked at you, just to make sure you were really there.

“Whew!” – you raised your eyebrows in surprise, eyes still closed and face a mask of bliss, still holding onto him and rubbing your lips together, reliving the kiss from moments ago.

Perfect.

You squeed when the emotions bubbled up too much and jumped up to catch some of his thick neck between your teeth and bit down playfully, getting some of that energy out. His shoulders shot up – this version of you did _not_ hold back in expressing herself – and he hissed as the previous feelings of worry and panic gave way to fast arousal, your teeth clenching on him, mouth starting to suck, hand moving to his peck – oh, what bliss. – “Gah, you drive me crazy!” – you growled into his ear and huffed, releasing him.

Right back at ya, he thought as he let you lead him towards his family cabin.

While you were walking, he realized he was fishing through his pocket for something and his mouth spoke on autopilot. – “You lips are dry, here, have this, I don’t want them to crack…”

“Okay, mom, I should have known you brought chapstick. You got any moisturizer for my dry face too?” – you joked, but a voice in his head told him that he genuinely did. He also had condoms, painkillers, bandaids and snacks. Because he knew you didn’t.

You unlocked the door and let him in, closing and locking it behind you, looking at him deviously through your eyebrows.

“Strip.” – you commanded, leaning against the door and waiting.

“Wh–” – he was startled and looked back at you, feeling the wind knocked out of him from the depraved look in your eyes.

“You heard me, muffins. Strip down for me.”

Clyde assumed what was about to happen in this here cabin and he couldn’t be more on board, but he wasn’t sure how you wanted him to do this exactly.

“I’ve been waiting for this all day. Are you gonna make me wait much longer?” – you rasped and his cock started hardening so fast it was almost painful.

He shook his head and looked around before stepping out of his shoes and starting to work on his buttons. You bit your lips to hold in a smile, feeling a pleasant heat surge through you. He took off his shirt, working through the buttons slowly, not to tease you, but because it was difficult with one hand and he was feeling nervous, and then grabbed his black undershirt, yanking it up and over his head in one swift motion. The pants he took off more gingerly, trying not to touch his hard on too much to keep from moaning and twitching.

When he was just in his socks and underwear, looking flushed and adorable in his confusion, you walked over and stopped him from going further. – “You’re so beautiful.” - you cooed and teased him with a few pecks on the lips that he kept trying to deepen, actually groaning a little as he kept trying to capture you in a real kiss. – “Frustrating, isn’t it? When you’re not getting what you want?” – you teased, running your nails over his pecks, circling around the nipples and feeling him shudder. You stopped and ran a thumb over lips, parting them and wetting the pad on his pink tongue before lowering your hand back between your bodies and teasing his nipple for real, making him roll his eyes shut and squeeze his powerful jaw. There was nothing that made you feel better than reducing him to a quivering mess.

You repeated the same process with the other thumb and pressed your hip into him, letting him grind against you, feeling yourself get wetter and more sensitive each time he rubbed his hot length against you.

You teased his belly, running your palms over the soft flesh covering the muscles, tickling, painting patterns back and forth, until he was hissing and having to fight to hold in his moans. You suddenly stopped and grabbed his jaw tightly, making him look at you. – “Go get me some lube, muffins.” – you pointed towards the bedroom and he was grateful for that; the last thing he wanted now was to have to run around the cabin, looking for it when his brain was not functioning at all.

He grabbed it and walked back to you briskly, cock heavy and bobbing, begging for your attention and found you standing in the doorway, one palm turned up. He squeezed some liquid into it and yelped when your other hand, which he wasn’t paying attention to, yanked one side of his underwear down, and you grabbed a fistful of his ass, pulling him into you. You lifted your chin up, offering him a kiss, which he greedily took, as you gripped his exposed cock and slathered it with lube, swallowing down his noises of shock and pleasure. You stroked the length of it a few times, swirling around the tip and feeling his brain completely shut down as his mouth hung open over yours, not enough concentration in him to keep kissing you as your hands drove him wild. His eyes flew open when he felt the fabric of your underwear brush along the top of his erection, the coarser material felt _so_ good, your hand guiding him between your legs, moving your slippery fingers relentlessly along the underside. It was you now who was lost in pleasure, eyes shut and mouth slightly apart, breathing deep and hard, and the corners of his eyes watered with arousal and powerful emotions rising in him. You worked him, and yourself, all the way up his shaft, pressing your clothed clit over his base, again and again, until you shuddered and smiled.

“Mhh, I wanna play with you, muffins. You gonna let me do that?” – you asked breathily and he just pulled you into a rough kiss in response.

You made him get on the bed and sat behind him, finding a position behind his broad back that allowed you to maneuver. You took off his prosthetic, kissing his forearm, before you hooked it behind your hip. He craned his neck to look at you, feeling like could cry after that kiss – you didn’t even think or flinch or make a big deal out of it, you must do it all the time. You hooked his other hand behind your other hip and spread his legs by wrapping yours around him, feet pushing his thighs apart. His naked belly and stiff cock were completely exposed, the rest of him unable to move, and he understood what you were planning.

“My muffins is so needy, isn’t he?” – you whispered in his ear, biting on the lobe and his stomach flexed, cock twitching in desperate anticipation. He nodded, jaw tight and you went back to circling around his pecks, only occasionally ghosting a touch over the nipples, watching the muscles in his abdomen flutter. – “I can’t hear you.”

“Yes!” – he bit out instantly. – “Yes.” – he added more calmly, nodding frantically.

“Mmh, good.” – you smiled and kissed down the side of his face, nuzzling into his neck as you used two fingers on each hand to mime a slow walk down his chest, belly, happy trail to the base of his cock, feeling him push against you and pant harder and harder.

Clear precum dribbled down the long veiny column and you gathered it, at an excruciatingly leisurely pace, working the head, pumping, moving all the way down to the balls, caressing them until he started whimpering.

This was worth ten thousand souls, Clyde thought, torn between wanting you to jerk him off hard and fast, and letting you tease him until he literally lost his mind.

His head snapped up as you resumed your ministrations, gripping more tightly and making the hot coil in his stomach sear and burn, rushing towards release - he wanted to watch what you were doing to him. You grabbed a tuft of hair at the back of his head, hard, and yanked him back into your shoulder, not letting him move an inch. That only made his thick cock jump in your hand and you let out a satisfied chuckle.

“Where are you going? You don’t want me to play with you?” - you asked tauntingly into his ear, pulling the hair even harder.

“I do, I do, I do.” – he tried nodding, but only felt more pain, which heightened his pleasure, and the prick of small hairs being pulled out, causing him to groan as you worked the skin over his sensitive tip faster, the perfect storm of pain, pleasure and your busy hands, edging him with your voice and tight grip. All he could do was let you rub an orgasm out of him and he let go, praying you wouldn’t stop.

“You wanna cum?” – you asked, voice shaking from the speed and force with which is you were pumping him, letting go of his hair and using the freed hand to massage his sack, tight and impossibly sensitive.

“Hmph, mhm.” – he relied on noises as words failed him, legs wanting to flail under him, but your feet held him in place as much as you could. His arms gripped your sides hard, flesh hand digging fingers and nails into you as his orgasm built and you felt yourself clenching and getting incredibly aroused from feeling his body against yours, spasming and vibrating with what you were doing to him. His feet planted as well as they could and he couldn’t stop his hips from lifting and canting, growling at the forceful release that was about to wash over him, and at himself for not being able to keep still like he knew you wanted.

“Aww, my muffins is so strong, he could overpower me so easily. But he likes me to be in charge, doesn’t he?”- his eyes rolled behind his closed lids, growing more excited than he could ever remember being. Your voice was going to kill him one day. – “He wants to cum so bad he can’t control himself. He’s fucking into my hands, like I’m not doing a good job.”

He shook his head, desperately wishing he could tell you you were making him feel like no one else could.

“Am I not working your big fat cock right?” – you asked, egging him on to respond.

“Hhngg!” – he struggled to make his mouth move, holding back his orgasm for dear life until you were happy and let him have it.

“You don’t like my hands on you?”

“Fuck! I love ‘em!”

“Then still your hips, muffins.” – you said, stopping your movements, holding his shaft hard, lube and his own arousal oozing between your fingers.

He flexed all his muscles in one instant, ass hanging slightly in the air, thighs trembling, but his hips did stop. He held his breath with an effort, thinking he might pass out for real, tears pooling and finally running down the sides of his face, not daring to look at your hand on him since the image alone could send him over that delicious edge.

“That’s my good boy.” – you kissed his neck and resumed stroking him slowly. – “You’re gonna cum?”

“I, oh fuck, I am.” – he almost cried.

“Then hold my hands, fuck them how you like.” – you removed his flesh hand from where it dug into your hip and gripped his girthy cock with both hands, letting him hold them as tightly around himself as he liked and snap his hips erratically, milking a long, explosive orgasm from them, first shooting huge fast spurts high into the air, belly spasming, legs quivering, and then shakily working your hands with his in a broken rhythm, occasionally twitching, until lazy streams of cum, clearer than before, slowly oozed from the tip and he was finally done, slumping against you, just a shell of the man who came through those doors, now only feeling satisfaction and relaxation.

By the time he could finally breathe and talk again, you had released him from your grip and let him rest against you, the weight of his heavy body trapping yours feeling wonderful. – “You’re fucking incredible.” – he purred and kissed you, getting on his knees and spreading your legs, not sure what exactly he wanted to do to you – fucking _everything_ , he wanted everything – but needing to touch you and feel you come undone for him like he did for you.

“I love you so much, muffins. I love playing with you, making you do stuff that scares you.” – you grinned against his lips , trying to snap your legs closed when he brushed his thumb over your underwear. He grinned back because he was on top of you so you couldn’t, moving your panties aside and coating his thumb in your slick, a deep primal satisfaction filling his body with warmth for making you this turned on just from holding him and touching him. – “Mhh, hold on, please.” – you placed your hands on his shoulder lovingly and he obeyed, equally excited to talk to you as he was to ravage your pussy.

“I don’t mean to take advantage of you in this state…” – you smiled, pressing your forehead to his, and the corners of his mouth pulled up, wondering what you had to say. – “It’s just you know we don’t have much time left.” – you stated matter-of-factly and he felt his stomach drop. – “I know you said before you didn’t want to leave your home, but… some time has passed since and I… wanted to ask if maybe you reconsidered?” – you looked at him tearfully, waiting for an answer. He just stared at you in horror, thinking how he could ask you to clarify without looking insane. – “This is your home and I get that you never planned on leaving, but my visa is expiring soon and I don’t really have another choice but to go.”- you said apologetically and a weight fell off his shoulders. He was horrified when you said you didn’t have much time left, thinking it was something much worse than a visa. He huffed a smile and you took it as a good sign. – “It could be like this always. Just us, anywhere in the world, having fun, loving each other. Just come with me?” – you begged, kissing his face desperately, running your hands over his face, shoulders… Of course he would. Yes. Yes, anywhere.

He tried to reassure you, not understanding why you seemed so worried that he would say no, but his mouth was not cooperating. A strange battle was unfolding in him, one part – his true self, wanting to shout from the rooftops that he would follow you anywhere, and another, alternate version of himself, currently in control, feeling queasy and sad that he couldn’t accept. He was too rational, level-headed, nurturing to be able to leave his whole life behind. His family was here, his bar – images flashed in front of his eyes, of his childhood, adolescence, all his adventures, the good and bad, Sadie being born, Jimmy’s wedding, Mellie’s wedding, Mellie’s baby, barbecues in the summer with the kiddos hanging off his legs as he struggled to walk – this was his home and family was his life.

“Clyde?” – you asked in a rather hopeless voice, fearing that his answer would again be no. – “We could get married. Please, let’s elope and just take off. I wanna be your wife, we could be a family.”- you offered, knowing how important that was to him.

When you met him a few months prior, you were just passing by on your travels and hooked up with him only because you found him attractive and he was a good match for you, being a lovely guy, a nurturer, and calm – a sharp contrast to your adventurous nature, something you needed to balance you out. Behind your own back, you had fallen madly in love with him and stayed as long as you could, but now that was not an option anymore. – “Clyde…”- you whimpered, choking back tears. – “I never thought I’d love anyone like this, I want to be with you until I die. Don’t you want that too?”- you asked, feeling awful and selfish that you did. Of course you knew he wanted it too, but it was just not in his nature to up and go and settle nowhere.

Clyde sat back with a thump, dejected and helpless. He just couldn’t. It was like you asked him to fly or breathe under water. He _would_ , he would for you if he could. But he just couldn’t, simple as that. – “I fuckin’ hate this. I hate myself.” – he muttered, getting angry, so much angrier now than after his first wish. Everything was wrong in that life and it wasn’t much to give up. But he had you now. God, you loved him, you loved him so much, he could see it and feel it in every bone in his body and he was about to lose you.

You were crying now, drying your eyes with the corner of one of the pillows. – “I th-think I’ll go p-pack now.” – you hiccupped from the crying, trying to get off the bed and go.

Clyde gripped your arm and pressed his head into your shoulder. – “I don’t… I don’t wanna watch you leave, it hurts too much.” – he said, kissing into your collarbone. – “Just wait one more minute, please?” - he took your hand and kissed it, holding on like he didn’t believe you would listen and wait, soaking in just a little bit more of your love before he left this life. – “You’re absolutely crazy and wonderful.” – he smiled, eyes filling up with tears. – “I wish I coulda stayed with ya.” – he watched you scoot over to him, a sincere sadness clouding your face at the thought of losing him and it gave him a small measure of comfort to know he was loved by you, even if for a little while. Sarah, you absolute bitch. – “Sarah, get me outta here.”


	5. 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> NSFW

*

He reappeared in a hotel room, massive and sleek, Sarah coming though the door in a French maid outfit, hair picked up in a little bun with a ribbon around it, black lacy choker, tight black dress that poofed at the bottom, tiny white apron, stockings and high heels, little feather duster in her lacy gloved hand.

“Ooh, someone had a good time.” – she winked.

“I could kill ya right now.” – Clyde shook his head, full of bitterness, still feeling close to tears.

“Why exactly?” – she asked, feigning innocence. – “She really loved ya, it was insane. I rarely saw anyone love anyone else so fervent–”

She taunted, like she didn’t know what she was doing to him, and he lunged at her, hand around her neck, slamming her into the wall to make her stop.

“Mh, good, big bear, fuckin’ ruin me.” – she closed her eyes in ecstasy, and Clyde realized it would be impossible to hurt her.

“Are ya gonna do this to me every time?” – he forced through gritted teeth, letting himself squeeze her as hard as he could now that he was convinced it wouldn’t hurt her.

“They’re _your_ wishes.” – she managed to cough out, eyes only growing more feral and excited. – “I jus’ give ‘em to ya.”

He wasn’t stupid enough to get into a semantics debate with the devil, so he released her with a disgusted noise.

“What is it? What was wrong this time?” – she asked, as if she really wanted to help. However, Clyde had no one to talk to about this, so he spoke, just to alleviate his own heavy heart.

He sat down and threw his head back, staring at the ceiling. - “I was… I was everything she wanted. And it still didn’t work. Is this some kinda sign? That it’s just impossible for us two?” – he asked, fearing that possibility.

“It is a sign, but of somethin’ else.” – Sarah rolled her eyes, stepping closer to him, sticking her ass out to move her short poofy skirt out of the way and sat in his lap. Clyde groaned in protest, trying to move, but it was impossible, just like that first encounter at the bar. – “Don’t be so down, big bear.” – she rested all her weight against him, hugging him around the neck as he sighed, putting up passive resistance. – “That was a really good wish. She was all yers. You just gotta–”

“What do I gotta? Hm?” – Clyde snapped, still not over the fact that he had to let you go.

“Mh, so much wrath in this big body.” – Sarah bit her lip, shifting around on his lap. – “Y’know, wrath and lust’re a real good combination…” – she smiled, snaking a hand up his neck, making him face her.

“Why don’t we get back to what went wrong?” – he looked at her coolly, wanting to make another wish as fast as possible just to get away from her.

“Alright, let’s recap. First, ya became who ya _thought_ she wanted.”

“Yeah.”

“Then ya asked t’be who _she_ thought she wanted.”

He stopped and thought for a while.

God, he was so stupid. If _he_ could be all wrong about you and him, why couldn’t _you_? - “Gawd.” – he groaned and Sarah nodded.

“I thought ya humans knew by now women do _not_ know what the fuck they want. They tell ya they wanna be respected and equal, but still get doors opened for ‘em and cum on the spot when ya call ‘em cumbuckets and spit on ‘em.”

Clyde didn’t appreciate the example, but he saw her point. – “Then what the hell can I do?”

“Well, if you want _my_ opinion…”

“I don’t! That was rhetorical.” – he pushed her away as far as he could, wanting some distance and time to clear his mind.

“That hurt my feelin’s, big bear. Don’t make me hafta hurt ya back.” – she winked, but he took the threat seriously. – “All I was gonna say is that tryna please people never works out. Most of ‘em don’t know what they want and even if they do, they respect ya less if ya try too hard to make ‘em happy. So do what _you_ want. Was there ever anythin’ ya wanted? Real bad? Somethin’ that coulda improved yer life and made ya happy?”

Clyde thought about it – her advice seemed to make sense. But then, it always did, she _was_ the devil.

He sighed, deciding to ask for the one thing he secretly wanted since he was very young. It felt like a betrayal to his brother, but he couldn’t say that he hadn’t thought about it and had a whole scenario in his head ready to go.

“Well, before Jimmy’s injury, a long time before it, I was thinkin’… I might pursue football as well. We were both good at it and that mighta amounted to somethin’.”

“Mhm, but then life takes its course. And ya never get to find out.” – Sarah spurred him on, exploiting those very human pitfalls.

He rolled his eyes, hating the fact that she was getting to him with these words. With a heavy sigh, he made his next wish. – “I wanna be a successful NFL player, with all the perks and acclaim o’that kinda life. And for her to be interested in me. I want us t’build this relationship from the ground up this time, so we’re not in a loveless marriage and she’s not about to leave me.”

“Beautiful. Sounds like a good one.” – Sarah winked.

*

He awoke in another mansion. Yeah, yeah. Whatever.

There was sports memorabilia around his bedroom, which was huge. Bigger than his entire trailer right now. Some of it was his stuff, some of it players he admired. Good. That’s nice. I s’pose.

What was on his mind was you. Of course.

Had he already met you? Would he meet you today?

His question was answered when a delivery of an edible arrangement came. It was chocolate covered strawberries, with a sports magazine and a bookmark sticking out, along with a note from you. He nibbled on one of the strawberries, amused, thinking how he had never received such a gift, especially from a woman, before. It was… really nice. Why didn’t men get flowers and packages more often?

He opened the magazine to find a big picture of… himself? I mean, yeah, it seemed to be him, but boy… He was _so much_ bigger.

He looked down at his chest and arms, and yeah, he was massive; broad and bulging all over, but he couldn’t get a real a sense for it, so he dashed out and searched for a mirror. There was one in the corner of his room and goddamn. Along with ascertaining that this version of him sleeps in the nude, and seems to be several years younger than his original self, yeah, he found out he was truly massive. So big that he at first didn’t even feel proud, just shocked. He would get used to it eventually, probably. It was a good problem to have.

He returned to the arrangement and picked up the note that went with it.

_Dear Clyde,_

_Thank you again for the interview, I’m overjoyed with how it worked out._

_Hope you like it too._

_Looking forward to tonight!_

Oh, shit! Yes! You were going out tonight! Amazing!

He had the day ahead of him, so he first tucked back into the arrangement, with all the more gusto since it was from you, and read the profile you wrote on him.

It was beautifully written and full of praise for him – if even half of these things were true, this wish was a real winner. He found, as he was reading, that he struggled to understand some phrases and words. Maybe this version of him didn’t read as much, but while he struggled with himself emotionally in the previous wish, here, he had to struggle with himself intellectually and force this brain to understand what _he_ already knew. It was tricky.

When he finished reading up on himself, like a real egomaniac, he got ready and just in time, as a car came to pick him up and take him somewhere. He was dropped off at some futuristic looking clinic and had some tests run on him, having to be scanned by several machines, including an MRI. He was assured this was all standard procedure, one of his regular medical checkups.

Clyde didn’t dwell on that too much, only looking forward to seeing you tonight. He spent the day Googling you, reading more of your articles, whatever was available. Many photos of you came up, often with athletes and you looked real cozy with them. Clyde frowned, jealousy causing his stomach to twist. Relax, man, she’s a sports journalist. Course her friends are athletes.

He rummaged through his phone, his hands – hands! Plural! Finally! – even more massive in this life than before, making it more difficult to use devices, but he found Jimmy’s number, calling him up to ask if he had anyone who could look into a person. When he explained he just wanted to know more about you and your reputation, Jimmy understood and said he was on it.

*

You looked great when he picked you up. Not that you didn’t always, but this was on a different level. You were wearing very stylish clothes, unique and professional looking, but still incredibly appealing. Not much was on display, but that, coupled with your shrewdness and confidence, was maddening.

Clyde was happy that a swanky restaurant was chosen and you were both reassured on the way there were no paparazzi and you could relax.

Dinner was spent learning more about you, Clyde using the article you wrote about him as evidence you knew all about his life, but he couldn’t possibly know as much about you.

So you told him all about your budding swimming career, which was cut short due to a torn rotator cuff, forcing you to choose a different path. You switched to journalism and became a sports journalist as that came naturally to you. You were engaged before, but you decided to end it as your schedules kept you apart too long. You had a pet parrot that loved to headbang with you. Favorite author was Marcel Proust. You couldn’t cook, but you could bake up a storm. 

He kicks himself when he can’t stop his brain from misfiring and big mouth from confusing perspicacious and precipitation, and the original Clyde sees in your eyes that you spot the mistake, but decide to let it slide. Whether because you don’t want to embarrass him or you don’t wanna bother, he’s not sure.

Your dessert was Persian Saffron Pudding, which you assured him was delicious, offering some on a finger for him to taste. He did and quickly decided it was his new favorite treat, especially when served on the end of your finger, which he sucked clean. This was, minor gaffes aside, going so well.

You both wanted to head back to his place, but you were also having a good time chatting and joking, so you stayed back, knocking back a few glasses of champagne and then finally stumbled out, clumsily climbing into the back of the car, falling over one another and chuckling as you tried to sit up.

He held your shoulders to help you balance and when he caught that certain glint flash in your eyes, he leaned in and kissed you, getting his ears and hair grabbed as you pulled him closer and devoured him.

On the way back to his place, he just kissed and kissed and kissed you, every way he knew how, unable to get enough, eliciting compliments from you in the form of words, as well as sigh and giggles and moans.

*

Once inside, you were trying not to make too big a deal out of his place, but you did subtly cast your eyes around at the sheer size and ostentatious abundance. Instead of getting a full tour, you were both more interested in visiting one room in particular.

Clyde sat you down on the corner of his huge bed and took a step back, peeling off his coat and shirt, revealing the solid wall of muscle that enabled him to do his job and he’d be lying if he said the look on your face didn’t boost his confidence infinitely and irreversibly – he would forever walk a little straighter after that. Naturally, he never knew from experience before, but there was a distinct look, a feeling of a woman who is entirely enamored with a man who is improbably big and strong and rich, far more than the average man. The way your eyes danced over him, cheeks flushed and legs rubbed together, it was intoxicating.

He walked into you, kicking your feet apart so he could get closer, your hands instantly on his hips, wanting to grab at him any way you could. Undoing your dress was going fine at first, Clyde enjoying how your chest went up and down under his hands, but then he got impatient and grabbed two fistfuls of it and tore it, leaving you in your underwear.

“Clyde!” – you jerked back, half turned on, half surprised. – “That’s Givenchy.”

He shrugged one shoulder. – “I’ll buy ya a new one.”

He ran his hands over your shoulders, down your chest, pushing you down onto the bed and leaned down over you. He let you reach up for him, catching his lips in a quick kiss before he moved to your neck, down to your shoulder, pulling the strap of your bra down so he could drag his lips over every inch of skin. Then he moved lower, pulling the cup down just enough to pull you out of it, holding the empty cup and your breast in his hand and covering it with his hot mouth. His tongue swirled and sucked until he was happy with the stiffened peak, continuing to nuzzle over with his nose and then drag his soft lips over it in succession, coaxing gasps and eager moans from you. When he sucked and licked enough pleasure from your nipples, you legs desperately trying to make some friction under him, he moved down your belly, kissing and nipping, making you yelp and grab at his hair.

He sighed contentedly as he slid his hands over your panties, feeling the lace on his palms and pulled them off of you. – “I’ve been waitin’ for this for so long…” – he murmured to himself.

“Huh?” – you breathed, too lost in anticipation to carry on a conversation.

“Nothin’, beautiful, I’m just admirin’ ya, s’all.”- he smirked, getting on his knees and spreading your legs.

His hands ran down your thighs, kneading the soft flesh as they approached the throbbing center and he had to leave a few kisses on his way down, the skin too inviting not to ravish.

Your noises were approving and, honestly, entrancing, Clyde promising himself he would have a taste of you like this daily. He decided to use his newly acquired left hand to touch you, running his thumb down the middle and back up several times, gathering your wet heat and then feeling you out until he hit the exact spot that made you gush and throb under him. He attacked it with his tongue immediately, making your breath catch in your throat, and spread you apart with his lips, taking care to taste and slick up every fold, teasing and playing with your quivering flesh as you dug your nails into his scalp, holding on for dear life.

Your clit was now swollen and impossible to miss as he ran his tongue up and down and sideways, not letting you get too close, even as you tried to push it into his face, catching his nose and moaning as you did, coaxing his mouth towards it. He worked the tip of his tongue over the hood, lifting his head up enough to see your half pained, half blissed out face, head thrashing from side to side, before he dove back in, clamping his mouth over it, and sucking. He continued until he felt you gushing around him, hips rolling uncontrollably, rhythmic moans becoming louder and faster, and the delicious flesh in his mouth pulsing harder and harder. Then suddenly, he just stopped, licking his lips as he placed his chin on your mound, stopping your legs from creating the friction you needed to finish, and grinned wolfishly.

“Oh, my god, why did you stop? Don’t stop!” – you panted, the tide of your hips moving him up and down, begging to be given release.

“Y’know, good pussy is like good whiskey.” – he mused, readjusting back between your legs, giving your wet hole a long kiss, the vibrations from the smack making your legs shake. – “Y’gotta savor it.” – he kissed your again, darting his tongue out for a second, making you throb again, trying desperately not to roll in his face. – “Let it sit on yer tongue.” – he licked slow circles around your entrance before pushing in. He yanked his big tongue out hard, coating the roof of his mouth with your slick. – “Let it seduce ya.” – he did it again, longer this time, until you clenched around him a few times, then pressing into your perineum , making your groan. – “Get ya drunk.”

“Clyyyde…” – you whined, fisting the sheets in frustration, you were so close, it was killing you. – “Please, fuck me, I wanna cum. Let me cum, Clyde, please.”

Those were the magic words. Two fingers gathered up your juices and slowly pushed in, spreading you nice and wide, bringing tears to your eyes. – “Is that good?” – Clyde asked.

“Ohh, it’s so good, fuck, yes.” – you nodded against the bed. – “Move, please, hard.”

He obliged, shoving his fingers in all the way, curling and looking for your g-spot, his head swimming with the satisfying squelch and your little whimpers, getting faster and louder again.

You tried not to writhe too much because what he was doing was perfect, his fingers so big and coarse and fast, you felt a hot wave building and rising, eclipsing every thought in your brain but the need to snap and collapse into overwhelming ecstasy. 

His tongue dove for your clit to finish the job, thick fingers spearing into you relentlessly and you clamped your thighs around his head so hard you were genuinely afraid of hurting him, but you had no control left. The band snapped and you came around his fingers and lips, slumping into the bed, twitching and gasping for breath, ears ringing from the sheer force of it all. He stayed between your legs, lazily dragging his fingers in and out, planting soft kisses on you until the crashing waves became soft spilling ones, lulling gently against the shore and then stilled, as you stretched like a satisfied cat.

When some strength returned to your body, you sat up and pulled him into a kiss, welcoming the mess you made on his face and pulling him on top of you.

“You feel really good, big guy.” – you smiled and bit on his lip.

“You eel amahing.” – he humphed, letting you tease him.

You pushed him to roll him over and he obliged, letting you run your hands over his muscles and groan at the feel. – “God, you’re fucking massive.”

More magic words.

As you kissed down his belly, you took him out of his underwear, half hard, but still hefty and big. You salivated at the thought of sucking him as he grew harder in your mouth, and choking on him as he face fucked you.

It was going well at first, he hissed and groaned at the feel of your mouth and you licked all the sensitive spots, working his length as you teased what you could fit in your mouth comfortably, but he just wasn’t getting any harder. You tried to be more forceful, hollowing out your cheeks and gripping him hard, assuming he maybe needed more energy to get him going, but no. Still the same. Even massaging the perineum didn’t change anything, though he twitched and jerked, the dick just wasn’t getting fully hard.

You took him out of your mouth, popping off, saliva trailing as you did and wiped your mouth. - “Hey, big guy? Is something wrong?” – you asked earnestly, even as you felt your womanly pride hurt. Here you were, bringing your A blowjob game and he was just not getting on board.

Clyde looked up and furrowed his brows, thinking.

“Is there something else that you like?” – you asked, trying to make it work.

“I, no, no! Yer great!” – he assured you, eyes panicked. This was _definitely_ not about you. – “Jesus, I… I don’t know what’s happenin’.”

“Are you nervous?” – you offered, trying to console yourself as much as him, climbing into his lap and aligning him against your slit, starting to grind back and forth, arms hooked around his neck.

“Oh, fuck.” – he closed his eyes and hugged you around the waist, loving how you felt, dragging your lips against him, but still, nothing was happening.

You continued for a while, considering if he was hard enough to penetrate you, but nope. No way.

So you stopped, disgruntled, lips pinched between your teeth.

“I’m sorry, I just don’t understand why…” – he started apologizing, running his hands down your back, desperately trying to improve your sour mood. Then it hit him. – “Damn the devil!” – he spat, pushing you roughly off his lap and getting up. – “Damn the devil to hell!”

You looked at him indignantly, how dare he? First off, he doesn’t even get all the way hard for you and then he has the gall to throw you off him like a rag doll?

Clyde was on the phone, dialing a number.

“What are—Who are you calling?” – you asked like he was crazy.

“My brother. I gotta ask ‘im somethin’.” – he retorted, irritated, glaring at his stupid half hard cock, the fuckin’ traitor.

“I’m sorry, you’re calling your brother?” – you asked, shocked. – “Why, is he gonna tap in and come fuck me?” – you muttered to yourself, but Clyde whipped around, giving you a dirty look.- “Ha. Ha. Yer very funny. No.”

The phone rang for a long time before Jimmy groggily picked it up.

“Jimmy, do I fuckin’ use steroids?” - Clyde barked and you mouth fell open. What the hell was he thinking?

Jimmy was silent for a long time, making Clyde think they got disconnected. – “The fuck’re ya askin’ me?” – Jimmy finally woke up enough to form a sentence.

“Just tell me right now, I’m fuckin’ serious.” – Clyde ordered, tapping his foot impatiently.

Another long pause, Jimmy thinking his brother must have lost his marbles, calling him in the middle of the night, asking stupid questions. – “I mean, ya… Clyde… What’s gotten into ya? Course ya do, everyone does! Have ya seen yerself? Yer fuckin’ huge!” – Jimmy rattled off, getting pissed that he got woken up for this nonsense.

“Oh. Okay, I thought so.”- Clyde said bitterly.

“Ohhh.” - Jimmy was starting to catch on. – “Is it yer dick again?” - he asked quietly, as if anyone could hear. – “Ya got that lady over there?”

“Jimmy!”- Clyde barked; his dick was something he had no desire to discuss with his brother. But then he realized Jimmy might know more about his own dick in his universe than he did. – “Wait, this has happened before?” – now it was Clyde who was speaking quietly, like you didn’t perfectly understand what was going on.

Jimmy pulled the phone from his ear and looked at it like it was an idiot. – “Erm, yeah? Are you feelin’ okay?”- he asked with genuine concern.

“Feelin’ great, thanks.”- Clyde rolled his eyes. – “G’night, sorry for botherin’ ya so late.”- he said goodbye and tossed the phone into a chair, sighing heavily.

“Alright, good news, bad news.” – he turned to you, approaching to sit on the corner of the bed, finding you wrapped in a sheet, knowing that the moment was over. – “I’m obviously an idiot…” – he started and you immediately nodded, agreeing. – “Hey!”- he pushed on your leg and you pushed harder on his shoulder. Feisty. In any other circumstance, that would make him tent right up, but nope, not now. – “I’m idiot who uses steroids and I think this whole mess right here…” – he looked down in disgust – “…is because of that. Because it sure as shit ain’t you. I can’t even tell ya _how much it ain’t you._ ” – he growled in frustration.

“Yeah, steroids do affect your sex drive. I wrote an article about it a few years back.”

“Yeah, I know, I read it today.” – Clyde confessed, missing the smile that appeared on your face at that.

“But y ‘know what? I’m gonna stop. Like you wrote, normal function returns after a while. And so this… thing is gonna get back to normal. Okay? How’s that sound?” – he asked, taking your hand gently.

“What do you mean?” – you asked, head cocked to one side. You were already working hard on burying this debacle deep in a dark recess of your brain, never to be relived again and saying bye to this gorgeous flaccid disaster.

“I mean… ” – his voice got more serious, not liking the implication in your tone. – “I wanna keep seein’ ya, obviously. And we can do other stuff until I’m… back at a 100%.”

You chewed your lip, unconvinced. – “And, um, how long do ya think that’s gonna take?”

“Ughh!”- Clyde got annoyed again, he was _not_ about to lose you because of his stupid fucking dick. The same dick that kept him awake most nights? And now, when it had what it’s been asking for for years, it decides to play coy? Piece o’shit. – “It takes how long it takes. Okay?”- he snapped, instantly regretting it seeing you raise an annoyed eyebrow. You were not the kind of woman who would stand for not getting dicked down and then sass from the same lug that just let you down. – “Can I jus’…”- he tried again, more tenderly, rubbing up and down your arms, trying to appease you. – “… eat ya and fuck ya with my fingers? Just for a li’l bit? I mean, look at these things!” – he waved a shovel sized hand in front of your face and you smiled against yourself.

“Yeah… I guess that would work.”- you shrugged, trying to imagine the next few months, not getting speared by that hog between his legs. – “But can I be honest here, Clyde? I like to get pounded. You know?” – you cupped his face, trying to explain. - “Just a big, juicy cock stretching me the fuck out and making my eyes water.”- you smiled a wistful smile and his face dropped, unwanted thoughts of you and other dicks swirling in his head. – “You’ll never know how that feels, but take my word for it, it’s goooood. It’s so fucking good.” – you seemed to be reminiscing and he snapped you out of it.

“I don’t doubt that.” – he choked out, jaw clenched. – “And I promise, I’ll give it to ya good. Long and hard and good. All day. All night. But for now… we can use this time to get to know each other. Do all that romantic stuff. Lemme take ya places and have fun and buy ya stuff… There are other things to do, y’know?” – he worked hard to convince you and you eventually reluctantly nodded.

“Okay, I guess we can give it a try. I mean, I do like you.” – you smiled, tucking your chin in shyly and he lifted it, wanting to see the smile he managed to put on your face.

“Alright then.” – he sighed in relief, kissing your lips gently before you got ready for bed and fell asleep on his broad chest.


	6. 6

*

An alarm woke Clyde up early, way too early, his head heavy with a moderate hangover.

The discomfort was quickly forgotten when he rolled over and found you sleeping soundly on the pillow next to him. What a treat to wake up to you, looking like an angel.

Your hand was peeking out from under the sheets, so he nuzzled against it, kissing it softly, wondering if he wanted to wake you or not, but sure that he had to snuggle up to you before his day started.

He resumed dragging his stubbly face against your skin, gently rousing you, eyes still closed, but a lazy smiled brightening your face. Slowly, he crawled under the sheet with you, lavishing your half-sleeping form in affection, setting your nerves on end, until he reaching the valley between your legs, ready to give you the good morning of a lifetime.

A knock on the door interrupted him, informing him his ‘QB guru’ was there ready to start working. You both groaned, you now mostly awake and he just kissed your belly. – “Raincheck?” – Clyde asked, ticking your sides, making you wiggle under him.

“Mhm. I’ll see you in the evening.” – you nodded, eyes still closed, thinking that it was maybe a good decision to give this guy a shot at making it work.

*

Clyde’s day was fucking excruciating. First, he forced down a mammoth breakfast of eggs, fruit, whole wheat toast, veggies – in insane portions, not sitting well with his hangover.

Next he spent long, boring hours breaking down plays into imperceptibly small details, learning from that to improve his game.

Then, his brain mush, he moved on to training.

The first few hours were running endless drills.

The next few hours were about speed and strength training at the gym, doing exercises that seemed more like cruel and unusual punishment rather than something that would help him.

Once his body and mind were truly pulverized, he was finally allowed to leave, finding that he had a meeting with Jimmy.

He told him about different brand deals and the minutia of the contracts offered to him and Clyde would have been barely able to keep up with the legal jargon at the best of times, feeling like an illiterate ape at the moment. – “Oh, Gawd, I’m the stupid brother.” – he facepalmed, rubbing his eyes, feeling worn and broken in every way. He sincerely hoped this was not his usual routine.

Jimmy gave him a weird look, but decided to let it go. He would soon need to start preparing for the new season and he wanted no distractions. – “Oh, yeah. I got ya these. Take one ‘bout an hour before ya see ya lady. Just remember ya can’t _keep_ takin’ ‘em. They fuck up yer blood pressure, sleep… Ya need to be in good condition right now, ya hear me?” – he clapped him on the shoulder and left, having many other things to do.

Oh, bless ya, Jimmy.

*

He went home, wanting to eat and sleep and take a bath and have a massage, but nope, ice bath time. He was instructed to stay in for at least 12 minutes, which already sounded like hell before he so much as dipped a toe in.

The first two minutes are the worst, they told him. He would feel great afterwards, they told him.

“I c-c-could fffffuckin’ k-k-kill ya, b-b-b-astards.” – his teeth chattered, wrapped in a big fluffy towel, still shivering an hour and a half later.

*

Mercifully, he regained some control of his limbs by the time you came over for dinner, debating whether he should take the pill and surprise you by laying rock-hard pipe into you, or wait for a day when he wasn’t as exhausted… But who was he kidding, he was dying to get in there, and he would have popped that pill even if he had had his hand amputated earlier that day.

After he took it and threw you over his shoulder, jogging into the bedroom, feeling like himself again. And perhaps a smidge better. The hydraulics were back to normal and, bonus, the refractory period between two pops was much shorter, so he was able to give you a rogering to eclipse all previous ones. By the end, several hours in, after multiple orgasms, each taking longer to achieve, and then spilling out of you slowly, protracted and aching, reducing you to a twitchy, babbling mess, sweat and saliva making you sticky from head to toe, pussy torn to pieces, you had to beg him to stop. He had proven his point, you were rendered immobile and you would not complain henceforth.

Clyde slept like a log after his impossibly long, physically demanding day.

*

To his horror, he had to repeat the same torturous routine tomorrow.

Up early, punishing breakfast, mind-numbing analysis, drills, gym, ice bath.

It was even more difficult than the day before.

Even if he did pop another pill, he felt like his body would fall apart right around you as he fucked you, so he decided to skip it.

That was a good decision because Jimmy called him and had him come over fast.

The driver dropped him off at the same clinic he had been at a couple days ago and he was taken to his doctor’s office.

“So your results are in and I’m afraid we have a serious conversation ahead of us.” – the doctor announced.

“Clyde, it looks like we were right, unfortunately.” – Jimmy said grimly, putting a hand on his shoulder.

“What?” – Clyde asked, annoyed he had to learn about himself like a stranger.

Jimmy stared at him for a long moment, not sure if he making a joke or if this was just a really bad sign. – “Do you… remember what we were doin’ last week?”

Clyde swallowed, not liking this line of questioning. – “Course I do. What do ya mean _exactly_?”

“The tests ya been runnin’. The CTE stuff. It looks… like that’s what it is.”

Chronic traumatic encephalopathy. Fuckin’ shit.

“We’ve been studying your history – the traumas and injuries, headaches, mood swings… It’s all indicative of CTE.” – the doctor confirmed.

Clyde’s heart sank. He didn’t know too much about the progression of CTE, but knew it ain’t good. - “So what, uh… can I expect?” – he asked, bracing himself.

The doctor sighed, phrasing things in the least worst way possible. – “There is commonly a degree of cognitive impairment, as well an inability to make decisions. We observe apathy or mood swings, often coupled with impulsive behavior. There is short-term memory loss – I think that’s what caused concern to your brother just now. In cases of more severe degeneration, we find parkinsonism and depression. Extreme cases display suicidal behavior.”

Jesus. Fuckin’. Christ.

Jimmy’s hands were shaking, so he took them off his brother. – “And what can we do?”

“There are supportive treatments available. We can plan and carry them out; work with speech therapists if necessary, or find leaders in dementia patient treatments – that’s what most sufferers do…”- the doctor suggested, essentially admitting there is nothing that is proven or that would significantly improve the condition. There was only making it slightly less unbearable.

Clyde just shut down for the rest of the visit, wanting to get home.

*

He came back, telling Jimmy he wanted to be alone. He had a lot to think about.

Stay in this hard-won life, put himself through the ringer for as long as his body and brain allow, and try to make it work with you? Or go back, wasting another wish, risking the next one being terrible or not working out either?

He was so lost in thought that he didn’t notice your coat hanging in the hall or the light of your phone screen as you sat in a chair, waiting for him, absently assuming it was a lamp.

“Hey, big guy. Long day?” – you asked when you saw he was looking under the weather, not seeing you at all.

He jumped back and then relaxed, not brightening nearly as much as you expected upon finally registering your presence.

In all honesty, he really wanted to be alone. And seeing you only made him worried you came to get your fill of him, which he was not able to provide in his current state.

“Uh-oh. Something’s wrong.” – you teased gently, wrapping your arms around his waist. – “Do you wanna talk or snuggle?”

“Snuggle.” – he breathed listlessly, following you to a loveseat.

You curled up on his lap, resting his head on your chest and played with his hair, telling him funny stories that happened to you or coworkers or athletes you knew of, trying to get him to cheer up or at least stop thinking about what was bothering him.

“Ya wanna stay over?” – he asked, wanting to fall asleep holding you.

“Sure.” – you smiled, kissing his temple, trying to be sweet and nurturing even if it wasn’t your typical approach.

*

In bed, as you were falling asleep, draped across his chest, Clyde asked. – “If you… had to choose between yer current career – but it sucked? It really sucked, everyone treated ya like shit and there were no prospects for improvement. And startin’ over in another field – very risky, something you have no experience in… What would ya do?”

You thought for a while, running patterns on his skin with your nails. – “Hm… I don’t think I love anything in my life so much that I couldn’t let it go.” – you concluded. – “Besides, life is to be lived. Try things. You’ll only ever regret the things you haven’t done.”

After you fell asleep, Clyde stayed up, weighing his options.

He could stay here, with you, try to tame you. Fix his body. Work on his rotting brain as well as he could.

But would that be unfair? Tying you to a sick man? And if the doctor was right and his ability to make decisions decreased, he could fuck himself over and miss the window, living out his life a drooling mess.

And would you even put yourself through that? You didn’t sound like a person who had any trouble walking away from things.

He told himself he could stay _for a while_. While it was good. Have a great snippet of a life and once it became too difficult, just pull the plug.

But he couldn’t do that.

He couldn’t stay for a week, a month, a year – god, what if he stayed several? What if you had kids? How could he _ever_ say goodbye to that? The thought of falling even more in love with you, this version of you, and then letting go seemed unbearable, even in the abstract.

He was still missing the adventurous, wanderlust you from his previous wish, shivering at the thought of the _love_ you were giving him and how it tore him apart to say those words to Sarah.

No, if he intended to leave at any point, he couldn’t stay a moment longer than necessary, it would only augment his suffering.

He rolled you onto the bed, stroking the top of your head, taking in your serene expression. – “Yer smart. And decisive. And know what ya want. And I’ll never forget ya, darlin’.” – he whispered, hoping he wouldn’t wake you. He kept putting off saying the words, but when his lids became heavy with sleep, he knew he had to, not able to go through another grueling day in this world. – “Sarah.” – he whispered sadly. – “Get me outta here.”

*

He awoke in a hospital bed, well rested, but disoriented. He got up, worried that someone would kick him out for being there needlessly. Or that he would find out there _was_ a reason.

The reason was standing across from him, in a slutty nurse uniform and some more of her signature fuck-me heels, playing around with patients’ pills.

Clyde strode over, feeling an uncomfortable breeze. Was his ass fully out? Wonderful.

He reached behind, trying to close the hospital gown and leaned against a shelf behind Sarah.

“Aww, don’t hide the goods from us, big bear, people is hospitals are depressed, they could use some cheering up.” – Sarah smiled.

“Shut up.” – he spat, looking more closely at what she was doing. She was taking out the pills from the little cups, replacing them with candy. – “The fuck’re ya doin’? Ya can’t screw with people’s medication.”

“Big bear. I can screw with everyone’s everything. It’s kinda my job.”

“Ya don’t gotta tell me.”

“Aww, so what was it this time?”

“Ugh, like you don’t know.” – he rolled his eyes, crossing his arms under his chest. – “Is that why ya brought me here now? To rub it in that ya made me sick?”

Sarah stopped what she was doing and turned around to throw Clyde an unamused look. – “People get sick, Clyde. And then they jus’ hafta live with it. That’s the hand that’s been dealt. You coulda stayed and tried to fix yerself – you were certainly willin’ to do so when it was yer dick that was givin’ ya trouble. But ya give up on yer brain no problem? Pfft, men. So don’t try to make this my fault.”

“Course it’s yer fault! I ain’t about to live with a shriveled dick and a fucked up brain, Sarah!”

“Alright. Maybe I did throw a few li’l wrenches in there. But a gal’s gotta have some fun. If it’s any consolation, ya do make it hard. Ya wish fer good things and the girl is really just poised and ready to fall into yer lap.”

“Then why do ya take it away from me?” – Clyde asked, throat closing. – “I jus’ wanna love ‘er. Why doncha let me?”

Sarah regarded him with no real warmth. - “The answer to that is very complex. But it’s also incredibly simple, Clyde. I’m the devil. I ain’t here to hold yer hand. Every life that you create for yerself is gonna have challenges. Jus’ like this one does. Ya gotta decide if ya wanna face ‘em. Who stopped ya from goin’ to trial, servin’ yer punishment and rebuildin’ yer life? Or lettin’ yer girl go and seein’ if she ever returned to ya? Or you grew a pair and followed her? Or stayin’ with ‘er jus’ now? Maybe she woulda grown and loved ya more than any of those other ones? What ya lack, Clyde, is faith. Not the perfect wish.” – she explained, tired of his whining.

Clyde sighed – how did the fuckin’ devil just get the moral high ground over him?

“Can I sleep on it? I’m so exhausted, this is all doin’ a real number on me.” – he asked, hoping some time might give him clarity on what he really wanted.

“Sure. But there _is_ a time limit on this thing.”

“There is?”

“Ugh, none o’y’all ever read the contract. Yes, of course! Ya think I can dedicate all my time to you and ya gal? I have public executions I could be attendin’, cocktail in hand! So jus’ get it together, big bear, alright? I’ll see ya in the mornin’.”

*

Next morning, he woke up in his bed, feeling like a freight train had run over him. A weight on his hips made him jerk awake, dispersing the pleasant haze of drowsiness.

Sarah was straddling him, in a full BDSM outfit, leather bra and straps, choker with a hole for a leash, riding crop in her hand.

“Fuck me!” – Clyde winced at the sight.

“Is that yer wish, big bear?” – she wet her lips, leaning down, hands on the pillow on either side of his head.

“No!” – he yelled, grabbing another pillow from the bed and firmly pressing it to his face between them.

“Aww, ya can hide all like, I can see inside yer head.” – Sarah teased, Clyde’s body betraying his mask of anger and responding to her bait. – “So if yer not gonna… anoint my cherub, what _do_ ya want from me?”

Clyde sighed, tossing the pillow away. – “Well, to start, I don’t wanna have a backbreaking job. That was terrible. And I fer sure don’t wanna be stupid again, that sucked. And I don’t want ‘er to have any reservations ‘bout me like she jus’ did. Jus’ straight up, head over heels in love. And I want ‘er to be able to be proud o’me. I wanna do somethin’ significant, not just fer myself.”

“Alright, big bear, lemme see if I got all that. Ya wanna be smart, I’m guessin’ also articulate and charmin’?” – Clyde nodded. – “Let’s throw fun in there too, shall we? A magnet for the ladies. And this one lady in particular, who is mad about ya. Would do anythin’ t’have ya. Ya work probably in somethin’ hip and creative. Yer erudite and articulate, maybe yer a writer? Ohh, I like that.” – she mused, grinding her hips against him until he stilled her, pointing an admonishing finger at her. – “Sorry, I’m jus’ testin’ if I gave ya yer normal dick back. You’ll be needin’ it soon. Alright, so that sounds pretty ideal, big bear. Go get ‘er.”


	7. 7

*

Clyde next found himself in a stylishly rundown loft. It was airy and enormous, dark wood, high ceilings, vintage furniture, antiques on the wall. Shelf after shelf of books and sculptures, old typewriters, gramophones, half-finished watercolors, cozy reading and writing nooks…

He caught a glimpse of himself in a mirror – glasses, big earth-toned sweater, clean shaven. Yup, he was the archetype of a writer alright.

He came across a leather scrapbook, also vintage no doubt, and found it full of article clippings about himself. Article after article praising his wit, his incisive satire, comparing him to a modern Jonathan Swift, one of the most important writers of our time, making us look at our most painful issues and be better for it, a tour de force storyteller and all sorts of other blush-inducing compliments.

The latest article, yet to be pasted into the scrapbook, was about the delay of his newest novel, and how hotly anticipated it was.

His phone rang and your name appeared, along with a picture of you that felt like a punch to the gut. His arms were around you, pulling a silly face as he kissed your cheek and you were looking away, rolling your eyes. But goddamn. You had a hot librarian/teacher look that he never knew did these things to him before: red lipstick, thick rimmed glasses, pencil skirt and an obvious cleverness that, all together, was completely disarming. He had been staring at the picture so hard, mouth literally watering, that he almost forgot to pick up.

“Hello?” – he asked, heart racing.

“Clyde Logan. The protagonist of all my stress dreams.” – you joked in your deadpan way and he didn’t know to respond.

“Hello, you. The literal woman of my dreams. Aren’t we the perfect pair?” - he found himself teasing right back, current body taking over.

“Very cute.” – he could practically hear that gorgeous eye roll he was looking at moments ago in your voice now. – “I’m just being overly fastidious and making sure you are, in fact, ready and meeting me - _with_ your pages this time!” – you stressed at the end.

“For you, my precious flower, I would write a thousand pages, swim a thousand seas, slay a thousand gorgons–”

“That won’t be necessary. The pages you are obliged to give me will suffice.” – you cut him off. – “I’m on my way.”

Clyde relaxed, letting this body take over, grabbing a folder and following his feet where they knew they needed to go. God, he was just hoping you were wearing the same lipstick, it made his whole gut twist into an excited knot.

*

A smile stretched across his face automatically when he spotted you, sitting in a small sidewalk café, your tiny white cup of espresso emitting thin white wisps of smoke, dressed in an oversized white shirt and leather pants, legs crossed, hair flipped to one side, glasses low on your nose, red lips pursed in concentration as you typed away at your phone. He could fucking eat you right up.

You spotted him too as he got closer, sighing and getting up to greet him with a quick peck on the lips and a few pats on the shoulder. Sitting right back down, you intertwined your fingers, rested your chin on them and gave him a questioning look.

“I suppose the pleasure of my company is not enough cause for a get-together.” – he feigned sadness and you shook your head. – “You’re breaking my heart, my love. But I have something that should make you happy regardless.” – he announced, sliding the folder over to you. You took it eagerly, flipping a few pages over, eyes skimming over them, lower lip between your teeth in focus. Ironically, the lip was all Clyde himself could focus on.

“You’re a prince.” – you sighed, clutching the folder to your chest and relaxing back into your chair now that you finally had them.

“And you’re a queen.” – he sighed, making you snort.

“You did good, kid.” – you clapped him on the knee, throwing back the rest of your coffee, panic surging in Clyde that you were about to leave.

“I did _well_.” – he corrected. – “I should hope my editor is more meticulous about language than that.”

You rolled your eyes. Ugh, how fucking hot! – “I was being colloquial. I should hope my star writer has a better sense for nuance in human communication than _that_.” – you quipped back and a heat rose in him, loving the banter he had with you.

“Oh, you make me wanna get all kinds of colloquial too, you know.” – he wiggled his eyebrows and leaned across the table.

Ignoring the comment, you stuffed the folder into you messenger bag and continued getting ready to leave. – “You have a good day.”

“Aw, you’re not leaving me already, are you, beautiful?”

“I’m afraid I am. I need to get started on these _long overdue pages_.” – you emphasized, hoping to make him embarrassed although you knew it wouldn’t work.

“You know what’s long overdue? A you and me day. Just us, and the city, and the love in the air. Your hand in mine and your snappy remarks excoriating me. You wouldn’t deny a lonely writer that?” – he pleaded, already slowly working his hands around your waist.

“The amount of fallacies in that one sentence–” – you started, but he slinked his way closer, stealing pecks and nips down your cheek and neck, making your yip and writhe in his embrace.

“Please, cease and desist, okay? You’re so high strung! You got the pages, they’re not going anywhere. You need to relax. And I need a day with my gorgeous editor. How much more of a gift-wrapped invitation to happiness do you need?” – he wrapped an arm around your shoulder, leaving a generous amount of money on the table and dragging you along somewhere before you could protest.

*

His hand never left yours, spinning you around occasionally, showering you with praise and cheeky compliments, even picking you up in the middle of the street because there was tiny puddle and then carrying you for a ridiculous amount of time, claiming he had make sure you won’t run away and start working.

After a decadent lunch and more complaining from you that you really ought to get started with work, he dismissed that preposterous idea and whisked you away to a petting zoo.

“Are we really about to weave through children and tired parents and touch smelly animals?” – you questioned, trying to get him to let you go.

“Yes, we are. And I know you love those smelly animals, you fully stole your Albanian neighbor’s chicken and kept it in your apartment until she came to beat you up and take it back.” – he fired back, wrapping his hand around yours tighter and signaling you were not going anywhere.

“She pulled out a bunch of my hair…” – you reminisced, face souring.

“I liked the patchy look. You can pull off anything.” – he bumped you with his hip and pulled you by the hand in front of him, making you lean against a fence.

You observed the baby goats frolicking and kids either cowering away from them or getting very close and then screaming with laughter as they jumped. Clyde shifted behind you imperceptibly, until suddenly he was holding you around the waist, body pressed up close, and face leaning against yours.

“You know I can fully feel your d-i-c-k against my b-u-t-t right now?” – you called him out, thinking a direct approach might make him snap out whatever was happening, spelling it out so no kids accidentally overheard.

“I know, your b-u-t-t feels amazing on my d-i-c-k. I was hoping for that.” – he joked, shimmying his hips a little, making you gasp and cover your mouth.

“Stop that!” – you admonished, not wanting people to see and get yourselves arrested for lewd behavior.

“Alright, for now.” – he peeled himself off you, not before taking your face in his hand and planting another juicy peck on your lips and grinning.

*

“Still tense, I see.” – Clyde smiled impishly, arm so tight around your neck he was practically choking you.

“Well, we’ve wasted an entire day–” – you started and he stopped walking, making you jerk back and stop too.

“Wasted?” – he asked, tone genuinely hurt.

You sighed, feeling overwhelmed after this whole impromptu, inappropriate, day of delightful Clyde devilry. He really could get you to do anything, but this was just not the time or place. - “You know I didn’t mean it like that.”

“So you still love me?” – he brought his face close, giving you irresistible puppy eyes.

You looked down, suddenly feeling a headache. – “Yeah.” - you murmured, barely audibly.

“And my pages are not the only thing of value in our relationship?” – he continued.

“No.” – you whined, rolling your eyes. That was his new favorite look on you, saying something silly and watching your eyes roll back. He looked forward to making them roll back that evening too.

“But I am strung out, you _did_ keep me waiting for this forever!” – you reminded.

“Yeah, I know how that feels.” – he looked at you strangely, and you watched him for a bit, trying to figure out what he meant. – “Well, if my precious flower is strung out, I’ve got just the thing.” – he announced, continuing to drag you in the direction of his apartment.

*

“Swedish massage?” – you asked incredulously as he showed you the massage table.

“Yes. I’ve gotten really good at it.” – he said proudly.

“Is that so? Amazing what you can accomplish while you’re _not_ writing your book…” – you couldn’t resist telling him off again.

“If you bring that up one more time during you and me day, I will wash that dirty mouth out with my cock.” – he threatened, his big paw covering your mouth, so your only reaction was eyes widening. – “I mean, some soap.” – he grinned.

“And yes. That’s exactly what happened.”- he responded to your previous accusation brazenly. – “Because there’s more to life than work.”

Although you protested, he kept assuring you this was the last thing he had planned and then he would release you back to your life. That was comforting, seeing a finish line at last and besides, you never quite knew how to say no to his ridiculously cute and charming man, so you both already knew he would get his way.

*

Oil ready, hair up and shirt off, you were lying on the table, contemplating how you got here. The day had started just like any other…

“I’m gonna need this tool of male oppression off too.” – he interrupted your train of thought, snapping one bra strap harshly against your skin.

“Ow!” – you complained and Clyde’s heart picked up at the sound. – “Could we not, please?”

“No, we certainly could not not.” – he imitated your tone.

“Ughhh.” – you groaned. – “Don’t you have some 19th century gilded changing screen or something in this cave?” – sat up, covering up as well as you could, looking for something tall enough to undress behind.

“Nothing I haven’t before, beautiful. Two eggs, sunny side up. Relax.” – he shrugged, coming closer and reaching behind you to unhook your bra. Absolute mayhem erupted in your head at this.

“Clyde!” – you kept one hand across your chest, the other batting his away. – “Alright, alright, I got it from here.”

He stepped back barely an inch, bending over with his face right in front of yours, hands planted next to your thighs, waiting to see you undress.

“Move, please?” – you asked and he made a sad face, lifting his hands up defensively and turning around until he heard the soft thump of the bra hitting the floor and your body rustling on the sheet. – “Alright, ready. Jesus.”

You were half expecting this was some weird joke of his, but he was actually really good at massaging. He worked on your neck and shoulders, with just the right ratio of tender and strong, hitting amazingly tight and sensitive spots, immediately releasing tension built up there. After some back rubbing, he bent your arm back, massaging the protruding shoulder blade, slippery fingers laced with yours. Then up and down the arm until you were so relaxed you could barely feel your body. He moved down one side, massaging your side and hip, eventually getting to the lower back and pulling your underwear down to be able to move his palms and fingers low enough.

“My butt is very relaxed, thank you.” – you told him, urging him to move on.

“I’ll be the judge of that.” – he dismissed you, paying even _more_ attention to the soft flesh there and giving you one quick, searing spank before walking to the other side of the table and resuming the process on the other side of your body.

You were wrestling between being very relaxed and incredibly tense, practically naked with your coworker, his hands oiling you up head to toe. It would be over soon and then you can run away, just breathe.

As he finished up, he kept your arm bent back, fingers again prodding their way between yours and sat next to you, bending down and first tickling your back with his hair before his soft lips connected with your skin. Whatever tension he had rubbed out of you previously was back full force, your shoulders high and tight, hoping you imagined this.

But you had not.

He kept kissing down your spine, and you grabbed at the sheet to cover yourself up, sitting up and shaking all over.

“Jesus Christ, Clyde.” – you looked at him as angrily as you could muster, but he just looked content and, honestly, high. – “Is that a normal part of the massage?” – you accused.

“It is with you.” - he smiled lazily, mouth oily, directing his eyes at your exposed skin, his gaze feeling it was burning you.

“Okay, honestly, I – you need to stop. This is making me extremely uncomfortable.” – you wrapped the sheet around you more tightly so you could maneuver and collect your clothes, but he stood back up and blocked you.

“Is it really? Or does it feel too good and you’re afraid?” – he asked, very seriously, tucking some loose hair behind your ear.

You sat speechless, for one of the few times in your life, heart racing, afraid you would cry if you said another word.

Clyde sighed softly, needed no more confirmation from you. – “I joke around a lot – for your benefit, by the way.” – he poked you shoulder with one finger, but then places his hand on it, rubbing a thumb over the same spot to soothe it. – “God, I have so much to teach you about embracing life, don’t I?” – he mused, running his hand down to your waist, forehead slowly pressing up against yours. - “But I’m serious when I say I wouldn’t let you down. Not with my goddamn pages that you care so much about. Or with anything else.” – he promised and you clenched your jaw, full of raging, conflicting emotions. – “I love you. So much.” – he smiled, leaning in what felt like in slow motion to kiss you.

“What are doing? Clyde, this doesn’t make any sense, you’re—“

After the first soft kiss, he started pulling you in, arms wrapping more tightly around you, ready for something more intense. – “Stop, what are you doing?” – you kept trying to get him to see sense, this was crazy.

“I’m doing the thing I want most in the world.” – he whispered, eyes on the sheet he was unwrapping from around you. – “I know you love me too.” – he said simply, chuckling. He knew it perfectly well – he sold his soul for it and the devil made it happen. – “I don’t know what I’ve been doing to make it anything but obvious that I love you too, but there’s nothing in this world I want more than–” – he cut himself off, kissing you deeply, pulling your arms around his neck until you relaxed and kissed him back. That triumphant feeling of your rigid flesh going limp and resting against him, finally acquiescing, made him feel invincible.

Suddenly, you stopped, pulling back and burying your face in your hands and crying.

“What is it?” – he asked gently, kissing the top of your head.

“You know what!” – you laughed joylessly. – “I don’t know what’s wrong with me that I feel this way, that I let you do this to me…” – you shook your head, voice starting to fail you.

He was about to assail you with more proclamations of love when a man entered the room and looked at the two of you funny. You, half wrapped in a sheet, glistening with oil, crying your eyes out. Clyde, flummoxed, red lipstick smeared across his face.

“Baby, what’s going on here?” – Dayton asked, head cocked to one side.

You whipped around to look at him, not fucking believing he was here right now! – “Fuck!” –you muttered, quickly covering yourself up, Clyde too distracted to stop you from getting up and picking up your discarded clothes. - “Didn’t you say you were broken up?” – you asked him quietly, using his broad body as a screen to get dressed behind.

Clyde kept looking at the strange man, face vaguely familiar, until an identity floated up through the haze in his mind. Dayton White, the NASCAR driver. Not sure who he was in this life.

Your boyfriend, another part of his brain supplied.

Clyde’s eyes went wide as his current body provided him with memories of this life, and yup, no two ways about it, Dayton was definitely his boyfriend in this world.

Well, fuck. Great.

You finished dressing yourself and sprinted out, no doubt feeling used and humiliated and confused… Clyde’s heart broke for you.

But his other heart also broke for Dayton – he didn’t deserve for this interloper to steal the body of his boyfriend and make him have an affair. And then walk right into the middle of it. He must feel the same way as you.

Fucking shit, this was all too confusing – two different people, in love with two _very_ different people, were waging war in his already tired mind.

“Clyde, what did you do?” – Dayton asked, coming out of shock.

“I don’t know.” – Clyde responded, walking up to him. – “It’s been a very strange day. I’m so sorry.” – he apologized, though no, he was not – up until a minute ago, he had been having a great time. But it was the polite thing to say.

“So do you… wanna…” - Dayton started, turning his head in the direction you just stormed out of.

“No. No, no.” – this world’s Clyde assured him. Um, yes?, the real Clyde protested.

“So then why…” - Dayton continued, remembering he was actually angry that his boyfriend was just undressing and kissing his old friend.

“Listen.” – Clyde took his hand. – “This was some crazy, Mercury in retrograde, out of body thing, okay? I love you and I’m so glad we’re giving it another shot.” – this world’s Clyde resurfaced again, reassuring his boyfriend and Clyde allowed it to happen, having caused enough tomfoolery for one day.

Wait, was he about to… Oh, yeah, he was.

Clyde felt Dayton’s strong jaw in his hand, just a hint of stubble rubbing where your soft curves had been moments ago, body leaning in.

He wanted to jerk back, but a thought struck him. What was he, homophobic? No.

So he took his boyfriend’s face in his hand and gave him a loving kiss, counting to five Mississippi and then pulling away.

Well, wasn’t this some bullshit? This world’s Clyde was floating on air. Yup, no doubt this was his guy.

The real Clyde sighed in exasperation and Dayton put a hand on his shoulder. – “What is it, baby?”

“I’m, uh… Going through a strange moment in my life, sir. Er, Dayton. Baby.” – he corrected. – “And I think I need to get out of here, even though you seem like a lovely gentleman and any man would be lucky to have you. My world is just upside down right now. And I don’t know how much crazier it’s gonna get. So um… Sarah? Kindly get me the fuck outta here.”


	8. 8

*

Clyde, annoyed before he even regained consciousness, found himself in a library. In front of him lay _Faust_ – very funny, Sarah – and he looked around, trying to locate her.

Her hair up in a beehive, the same glasses and lipstick you just had on – looking grotesque to Clyde on her, he didn’t understand why she would choose to appear like that – too many buttons undone on her shirt, short checkered skirt and the same stocking/high heel combo she seemed to like, crossing her legs so he could see she had on no undergarments to match the stockings.

Clyde huffed a breath, this location adding to his annoyance – he couldn’t even properly yell at her here.

“Like yer book, big bear?” – Sarah teased.

“Love it.” – Clyde responded curtly, not giving her the satisfaction.

“Did ya have a good time?”

“Marvelous.” – he repeated in the same vein.

“Aw, come on, be a good sport, tell me what went wrong?” – she sat on his desk, one foot traveling up his leg until he caught it and squeezed it hard.

“Nothin’ went wrong, ya gave me exactly what I asked for.” – he gritted his teeth, wondering if he could snap her ankle.

“So why’re ya back then?” - she taunted.

“Let’s cut the crap. These wishes always go wrong and I don’t see the point anymore.” – Clyde released her and walked out.

When he was out the door, Sarah was already waiting, this time in a red catsuit, latching onto his arm and walking with him.

“They do backfire, don’t they?” – she giggled. – “I love it. But ya do learn and improve over time. Ya want ‘er to love ya? Ya gotta ask. Ya wanna love _her_? Ya gotta ask. Ya want yer dick to work? Ya gotta—”

“And if I wancha to leave us alone? Let us actually get together and not get tripped up by yer tricks?”

Sarah grinned. – “Ya gotta ask.”

Clyde stopped and looked at her appraisingly.

“I can ask for that?”

She shrugged, like it was a perfectly sensible thing to ask for.

“So I can ask for us to actually be together? And in love? Both of us this time!” – he emphasized. – “And not let any circumstance keep us apart?”

“Course ya can.” - Sarah said easily, as if wasn’t the last thing that benefited her.

Clyde still wasn’t convinced. – “So I mean, lemme jus’ say that again. Both in love, together, and nothing. In that world. Will stand in our way?”

“Yes. I understand what yer sayin’. And you can have it.” – she repeated in the same explaining-it-to-a-dunce tone he used.

“Alright then. Give me that.”

“Yer really gonna love this one.” - Sarah winked.

*

An alarm clock woke Clyde up and he rolled over in his bed to turn it off. He then stopped, looking at the ceiling of his trailer and then around his bedroom. Nothing was different.

He got up, padded barefoot to the bathroom, washed his face, brushed his teeth, looking at himself in the mirror, trying to spot any difference.

Nothing.

A short walk around the trailer revealed no perceptible changes. He appeared to just be back home.

He would have assumed that nothing happened and that Sarah never sent him anywhere, except for the alarm clock waking him up early. There was no need for that.

Clyde walked back into his bedroom and sat on the bed, thinking of what to do. For now, he thought he might as well get some more rest and then start exploring if this life was any different.

What stopped him was hearing soft footfalls, coming closer.

You came up, exaggeratedly looking around and came over to sit next to him. He watched you with profound interest, but also trepidation.

You just looked like you. The real you. No leather jacket, no Givenchy dress, no red lipstick. Just you. Who came to his bar and made his heart sing.

Expect you were now in his home.

It appeared like you were ready for work, setting your coat and purse down before you locked your arms around his neck.

“My sweetheart is up so early?” – you asked softly, looking at him with deep devotion.

He just nodded, running his hand over your arms, wrapped around his shoulders, not fully able to believe this was happening. It was just you two, the real him, the real you, in his bedroom, in his arms.

He pressed up his forehead against yours and you leaned into it, holding him close and relaxing into the tender moment.

Finally, he breathed deeply.

You didn’t resent him, you weren’t running from him, he certainly loved you and you were holding him, radiating warmth, helping him recover from the roller coaster he’s been on just by being there.

“I’m glad I got to see you before work.” – you breathed, nesting his head into your shoulder, palm resting against his cheek. That must have been what the alarm was for.

It was peaceful and quiet, which felt like heaven after all the commotion of the last few days, and he felt like he could stay like that all day.

You let him rest against you as long as he needed to since he did occasionally get into darker moods. Usually he would be all over you, so you gave him some time to work through what he needed.

“Are you okay?” – you asked with genuine worry, peeling yourself away and looking at him in the eyes. You were so close and so wonderful, he just had to kiss you.

The thought suddenly made him really nervous – it was all too real. The other yous were clearly different from the one he wanted most, but this one… He felt like he was skipping steps – he should take you out, hold your hand, put in some time before—

You fried his brain by kissing him first, smiling at the taste of toothpaste, minty and cooling, before leaning your head to the side and really getting into it, his fingers digging into your waist from the shock of it. You leaned into him until he understood and fell back on the bed, with you floating over him, moving his messy locks away from his face.

“I’m serious, though, you seem off. Is anything wrong?” – you persisted, absolutely melting his heart.

“Not when you’re here, lookin’ at me like that.” – he took your hand, overwhelmed with gratitude and continued drinking in that perfect look of love as you laid down next to him, enjoying the moment.

“Can’t we jus’ stay like this all day? Do ya really gotta go?” – he asked after a while, dreading the moment you actually left for work.

“I do, I’m afraid.” – you lamented, tracing your finger over his nose, lips, chin. – “But I’ll see you at the bar later.” - you comforted, scooting closer to give him a quick peck.

He groaned, not totally satisfied. – “Why don’t we just go somewhere? And be alone together, all day?” – he suggested, taking your hip and pulling you closer.

“That sounds wonderful. I can probably a get a day off work soon and you just hand the bar over to someone.” – you smiled broadly, already looking forward to a whole day with him.

That put him in a much better mood, as evidenced by his rolling over on top of you and kissing you far more ferociously than before.

“Cl-Clyde. Clyde.” – you spoke mostly into his mouth, busy attacking yours before you could get him off you long enough. – “I can’t go to work all wrinkly.” – you tried to stop him, but he just started undoing your buttons daintily, with two fingers, a mask of innocence on his face.

“But what if I’m… real careful… and real gentle?” – he asked, opening your shirt and worshiping the skin there.

You sighed happily. – “Just because I love you this much, doesn’t mean you should make me do whatever you want all the time.”

Clyde was having the time of his life, nuzzling your belly, kissing around the navel, when his throat dried up and he froze. He replayed what you said several times in his head, stomach tying into more and more knots. He finally gave up, resting his forehead against your stomach, eyes shut against the sudden sting of tears.

You could tell you hit some sort of nerve from his raggedy breathing and fist clenching by your side. – “Tell me.” – he choked out, pulling down your skirt and underwear in one go, carefully spreading them out next to you, an obscene bulge in his shorts making your face heat up. – “I want ya to tell me all about it.”


	9. 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (Mentions of sessy times)

*

Clyde seemed to be in some kind of trance, so you had to pull him up by the hair to make him look at you for a second. – “Tell you what, sweetie?”

“All about us.” – he explained. – “I want t’hear ya talk about how much ya love me.” – Clyde directed his attention back between your bodies, removing his boxers and spitting into his hand, lubing up as well as he could for you. There was no time for preamble, he knew you had to go, but he couldn’t spend this whole without you if he let you go now.

You shivered, excited to make love to him, but knowing a sharp, stabbing stretch was ahead of you right now, surrendering to the moment.

Clyde groaned out an apology, pushing into you slowly, feeling you open up for him bit by bit, your face screwed up, throat holding back a scream that came out as a labored breath. Once the lashes of pain subsided, he felt you relax under him, feeling you grow more pliant and gripping your walls around him.

“What do you want to hear, sweetie? The first time I saw you?” – you smiled, chest warming up with how fully he filled you out, eager to have him hit all the spots that made you lose control. He pulled out slowly, only nodding against your chest. – “You were the tallest kid in your class. Smart. Quiet. Mysterious. I still don’t know how you never knew what you did to us, girls. Mmmhhh.” – you let out a protracted moan, already starting to lose control over finer motor skills and speech. – “So many of my friends had crushes on you. I wanted to gouge their eyes out when they talked about it.” – you reminisced, a strange satisfaction flowing through you that the man you’d loved all this time was fucking you and none of them ever got to have him.

He groaned, feeling a sweat break out all over at the thought of you liking him all the way back then, as he was convincing himself to forget all about you, running away from his family and his feelings, fighting in a pointless war. And all the while, he could have been doing this, sliding in and out of you, getting wetter and sloppier with every thrust, purring like a kitty cat.

“And that night we stayed at the bar… and you told me how you felt, it was the happiest day of my life.” – you felt yourself choking up, you hadn’t thought about that night in a while. – “I was so afraid you had given up, I thought I would spend my whole life without you and you turned my world upside down with just a few words.” – your hands shot up to your eyes to wipe the corners as tears started pooling and slipping down your temples.

Clyde stroked your hair, kissing your forehead, moving and out of you languidly, until you calmed down. Without meaning to, he rubbed against your G-spot, making your hips jerk up. You felt him smile against your forehead, pulling him in for a kiss as you readjusted your legs around him, finding the best angle.

“I think about that night whenever I come over. I love it when it’s just us there.” – you moaned, thinking of all the different times and places you made love around the bar, wondering if there was a single table or chair you hadn’t marked up by now. If there was, then you’d get to it eventually.

If there was something more erotic than fucking the love of your life for the first time as she cooed in your ear how much he loved you, then Clyde didn’t want to experience it – this feeling he was having now felt dangerously close to losing his mind and he was afraid he wouldn’t be able to take it. The loving, hungry tone in your voice and the way tension was slowly building back up in your body, it all made that coil of desire twist and burn in his gut, that itch spark up and the thrill of starting to chase that glorious release spurred him to thrust into you harder, faster, hear your voice stutter he pounded into you.

“I can never, fuck, get enough of you, you know?” – you were starting to babble, not sure if you’ll be making any sense. But you both knew what you meant. – “You’re always on my mind, ugh, yes, yes…” – you swallowed hard, throat dry from the heavy breathing. – “Oh, fuck, just like that, uh, just like that…” – you begged him to thrust into you just as deep and hard as he was, his deep groans vibrating on your shoulder and echoing in your head. – “I wanna hold you every day and fuck you every morning and see you every night, I can’t, fuck, I can’t…” – you couldn’t finish your thought as the waves of orgasm stole your tongue and you mind, only able to ride out the crashing waves until your limbs turned to jelly and the only muscles you could move were the ones in your face, making you smile and sigh in satisfaction. Clyde soon followed, tensing up and spilling hot cum inside you, the sprays only heightening your pleasure, so you embraced him fondly as he collapsed on top of you and worked to catch his breath. – “I can’t stand to be away from you.” – you finally finished your thought, whispering it into his hair as you stroked it.

He helped clean you up, not resisting stealing a few more kisses and nips as he did, then holding you around the waist as you dressed yourself in front of the mirror, watching you perform these simple mundane tasks and wanting to see you do it every morning.

“How am I supposed to focus on anything else today?” – you sighed, resting your head on his chest as you said goodbye.

“Well, then don’t. I certainly won’t be thinkin’ of anythin’ but you all day.” – he shrugged, missing your body against his as soon as you let him go. – “I love you.” – he mustered up the courage to tell you before you left, making you stop and throw him another smile over your shoulder.

“Not as much as I love you.”

*

Clyde still had hours to go before he had to go to work, so he thought about how to spend that time. It occurred to him to check if Mel still had her salon in this world, so he got ready and headed down to Hair We R.

Sure enough, there she was, crop top, leggings, heels, putting curlers in some lady’s hair.

“Mornin’. Why’re you up so early?” – she looked surprised to see him.

He just shrugged and smiled, wrapping one arm around her waist and giving her a quick kiss on the cheek.

“Don’t forget t’bring Jimmy’s overalls to the bar when ya go, he’ll stop by in the afternoon.” – Mellie reminded.

“Sure.” – Clyde nodded, added it to his mental list.

Mellie watched for his reaction closely, but he didn’t seem to have a particularly strong one. – “He’s still thinkin’ ‘bout movin’. What’re ya gonna tell ‘im?” – she asked, looking very probing.

Clyde wasn’t sure what to say, maybe Jimmy had different problems in this world. – “Er, he’s a grown man, guess he should do what he thinks is best.”

“So yer gonna tell ‘im to go?” – Mellie leaned her head to the side, not really expecting that answer.

“I,uh, don’t know. Guess we’ll talk later today.” – Clyde kept it vague, hating these first few hours of a new wish where he had no idea what was going on.

Mellie huffed that signature Logan huff, as you called it. – “What’s yer wife up to?”

Clyde’s stomach dropped. You were his wife? It makes sense, definitely, if nothing is gonna keep you apart, but he just didn’t catch on yet. He tried to appear relaxed while surreptitiously looking down at his hands. Surely, he would have felt a ring on his right finger? He knew he couldn’t wear one on his left. – “She’s at work. Wonderful, as always.” – he smiled, bowing his head and then finally seeing a gold band fitted to his prosthetic, not going anywhere. He just had to touch it, make sure it was real.

“Mhm. Good. As long as ya remember that.” – Mellie muttered.

“I think I’m gonna head out. Get Jimmy’s overalls. Run some errands.” – Clyde announced, feeling antsy all of a sudden.

“Okay, be good.” – Mellie warned as he left.

*

Clyde went out and got the biggest, prettiest bouquet of flowers he could find, putting it in the back room to wait for you, while he filled his time with cleaning glasses and playing his favorite records in the empty bar.

Normally, if he decided to retreat from the world and be alone at the bar, it was because he was feeling dejected and abandoned, just hiding from the world.

But today, it was a strange exercise in ecstasy and selfishness, he had so much to be happy about that he just wanted to be alone with those feelings and bask in them without anyone’s eyes or interference.

He also had some time to ruminate on his wishes and his future, wondering how this played out. So he just stays? Lives out his life here? And then when he dies, he goes to Hell or something? Those were unpleasant considerations, so he tried to push them to the side; he oughta just enjoy this and there will be time for existential dread later. Like, when he’s 70 and your grandkids are feeding him soup.

Soon enough, there was rustling in the back room and he his heart leapt, somehow knowing your footsteps and noises deep in his bones. He came in and found you admiring the flowers he got you.

“Hi.” – you greeted, trying to bite back a schoolgirl smile.

“Hello.” – he greeted back, closing the door behind him and leaning on it. – “Ya like ‘em?”

“Oh, Clyde. I love them. Thank you.” – you extended a hand and he came up to take it, kissing it before he hugged you.

“I know Jimmy will be here any minute, so I’ll pop out before that. I just wanted to see you before I go home.”- you explained, giving him a few quick kisses.

“Have ya been thinkin’‘bout me today?”- he asked, eyes closed, letting you lavish him with your attention.

“Mhm. You?” – you let him rock you side to side, melting at seeing his blissful expression.

“All day, every day.”

All too soon, it was time to leave. - “I should go.” – you told him, gently unwrapping his arms from around you.

“Take yer flowers.” – he reminded, seeing you head to the door.

“Aww, sweetie.”- you smiled. – “Thank you. But why don’t you take those home with you? I have the car full of groceries and I’m bringing the boys back from school.”

“The boys?” – he asked, feeling his hand starting to shake from the sudden surge of adrenaline.

“Yeah.” – you replied easily.

He had kids? He had kids with you? Clyde swallowed, praying to have enough strength not to pass out right now, at least not until you left. - “Can… Can I see them?”

“Of course.” – you replied, touched by his reaction.

You were parked a little ways away, in front of the nearby store. As Clyde approached the car, he started to lose feeling in his legs, not even sure he was still walking, it was like you were taking him to see the face of god.

“Hey, guys, look who wanted to say hi.” – you told them, making them look up from their phones. The little boys giggled and gave Clyde toothy grins before directing their attention back to their games. One of the boys looked so much like you, though he still had that soft baby face and the other… He immediately spotted the shiny dark locks he inherited from mama Logan and the same freckles he and Jimmy had. Jimmy’s faded over time, but it was an unmistakable family feature.

“Alright, guys, say bye and let’s go home.” – you made them look up from the their phones as you pulled out, the boys excitedly getting up and waving at Clyde through the rear window as you drove away. He waved back, feeling a heat surge to his face and happy tears pool in his eyes.

*

All he could think about later were the two boys, sweet, perfect little angels, and how much he wanted to hold them and talk to them and listen to them talk about their days and play with them… After seeing them for just a few seconds, he felt like he would take a bullet for them. How could he have ever been involved in creating something so amazing? Just having you was more than anyone, least of all he, deserved. But those kids… They were everything.

Jimmy came in and Clyde only noticed when he spoke up.

“Oh, hi. Long day?” – Clyde asked, seeing his brother’s drawn face.

Jimmy shrugged, trying not to look too forlorn. – “Same as always.”

“What can I getcha?” – Clyde asked, knowing a drink would improve his mood, at least just a little.

They ended up taking for a while – topics that were not entirely new. It was difficult to find and hold down a job, especially a good one. As far as Clyde was concerned, Jimmy could always do something at the bar, but they both knew the bar was his thing and Jimmy preferred a different type of work. Hell, it was this exact things that drove them, in part, to rob the speedway. So it was unusual to Clyde that both Mellie and Jimmy held him up as the main proponent of Jimmy staying and trying to make it work here. Sure, he liked for his family to be around, but not at any cost.

What was holding Jimmy back was mainly the thought of uprooting his family and taking them to a different place. Kids don’t necessarily take that well and the ol’ ball and chain had a fine job here. After a few drinks, they settled on the idea that it’s just best to wait for a little bit longer, finish out the school year and see if anything changes.

“Drive safe.” – Clyde said, feeling pleasantly buzzed as he closed up and hugged Jimmy goodbye. In response, his brother just frowned and waved his hand dismissively, making Clyde shake his head.

At home, he was overcome with sleep, all the intense emotions of the day really taking it out of him, so he just set the flowers on the table and collapsed into bed, murmuring an _I love ya, darlin’_ to your sleeping form next to him in bed.

*

The next morning, a noise woke Clyde.

“Darn it!” – a low curse in a female voice followed.

Gleema had dropped her hairbrush as she was combing her dark hair back, trying to put in a hair clip so it didn’t pull on anything. Her husband was asleep and the sweetheart had brought flowers for her last night – how did she get this lucky – so it was especially annoying she was making a ruckus now that he was trying to sleep.

She peeked her little head from behind the bathroom door to listen to his breathing and check if he she had woken him up. Instead she heard him lazily rustling up the sheets, no doubt stretching and planning on getting up briefly to see her before she zipped off to work.

Clyde padded sleepily to the bathroom, a dreamy smile on his face, feeling his way there with his eyes almost entirely closed. He did not marry you not to see you off before work, whether he was still mostly sleep or not. And hey, if the same thing as yesterday happened, he was not complaining.

To his surprise, it was an entirely different person standing there. Gleema Purdue. Somehow he knew that name. The girl they needed to traumatize for their cauliflower plan. Was now in his bathroom.

“Did I wake ya?” - she looked remorseful, eyes squinting in apology behind her blue rimmed glasses. – “M’sorry, sweetie, go on back to bed, don’t mind me.” – she encouraged, standing on tip toes to reach all the way up to his nose, catching it between two fingers and pulling him down a quick peck.

He turned around wordlessly, wondering if this was some weird dream.

“And thank ya for the flowers, yer so good t’me.” – she added after him, fixing her hair and getting ready to leave.

When he was back in bed, he tried looking around, pinching himself – something – to check if he was awake at all. After a while in this strange, confused state, he heard the same alarm from yesterday. He turned it off, reminiscing about the previous day until the backdoor opened and the same soft footfalls from yesterday came walking up to his bedroom.

You appeared and set next to his prostrate form, one hand rubbing circles into his chest to invigorate him. – “Hi, sweetheart.” – you gave him that same loving smile, eyes liquid with warmth, before bending down to kiss his chest and rest your head there, missing his proximity.

He was finding it difficult to let out breaths and find the focus to take new ones in, panic and nausea and disgust filling his body, realizing he was, indeed, wide awake. – “Did my… wife jus’ leave for work?” – he asked like he was in serious pain, making you shoot up, worried.

“Er, yes, I think so.” – you replied, seeing him wince and shut his eyes tightly, like he was stabbed.

“And yer… husband?” – he asked, fist clenched, nails digging painfully into the taut flesh.

“Jimmy’s still asleep, I assume.”


	10. 10

__

*

Clyde stayed in bed for a few more moments, breathing more and more rapidly until he suddenly shot up like he had been burned with a poker.

“You’re… I’m…! I can’t, I can’t believe we’re doin’ this!” – he paced around, instantly hyperventilating, hand pulling painfully at a fistful of hair, his stump covering his angry, red eyes.

It’s not the first time one or both of you had this reaction, feeling disgusted at what you were doing. The best case scenario was that the other was calm and patient enough to soothe the other. Otherwise, it ended up in horrible, unthinkable blowouts that later trickled on into your respective homes, making Gleema and Jimmy worry about you. Which was doubly unfair to them, only making the strain between you and Clyde worse. But, even despite all of that, you never managed to keep away from each other for long.

“How did we get to this? How did we let this happen?” – he asked, finally stopping, chin wobbling pitifully as he watched you, giving him a compassionate look and beckoning him over. He curled up on the bed, head in your lap as you played with his hair and tried to calm him down.

He kept thinking of how it possibly could have started. What could have been the moment that he betrayed his brother, his flesh and blood, in the worst, most despicable way?

Maybe it was a false memory, or maybe he had spent enough time in this world, but things seemed to be coming back to him.

He remembered what you told him yesterday, about meeting in high school. He always assumed you and your friends were making fun of him or talking about his brother when he noticed you looking at him. Most of the time, he made it his business not to notice anything, bury his nose in a book, and just leave school as unscathed as possible. It wasn’t easy to be the brother of the football superstar and one of the prettiest girls in school.

When he went off to basic training and later to Iraq, you kept hanging around Mellie and Jimmy, since you didn’t have his number and, even if you did, you were never close enough for you to just start texting him out of the blue one day. _Literal_ years passed and you kept being friends with them, getting updates on Clyde, his wellbeing becoming all the more important to you as it faced graver and graver risk.

Finally, one day, Jimmy announced he knew why you were always around and that there was no need to be nervous, he felt it too. Whenever you and Clyde talked about it subsequently, you would say that you didn’t know what the devil possessed you to do it and now he knew you were more right than you could imagine.

Not to hurt his feelings, you went out on a date with him and had a good time, even felt charmed by him. How not, you’d been friends for a long time at that point and his biggest talent in life was making ladies’ panties drop. Nothing happened between you and were about to call it quits when Clyde got his hand blown off and it didn’t make any sense to hang around the distraught family unless you were in some way affiliated with them.

So you kept your little relationship going, hating yourself all the while, Clyde hating you more. You comforted Jimmy while you needed comforting yourself and noticed Clyde growing more distant. If you ever tried to be nice to him, he would get hostile.

One day, out of nowhere, he announced he was going out with Gleema and everyone was surprised. No one had heard a whisper about her before that and, more importantly, it was clear to the inner circle that Clyde was in no emotional shape to be entering a relationship. He wouldn’t listen though, not to Mel or Jimmy. He even went so far as to ask you if you had any objections, like his siblings did, his tone implying that he wished you did and that he wanted to fight. You wished him all the luck in world and he never forgave you for not stopping him.

In a ridiculously short amount of time, they got married and Jimmy started bringing up marriage with you. After all, you’d known each other for years and he was sure you were the one for him. Besides, Gleema had been absolutely glowing after she and Clyde tied the knot, he would rave as you fought to keep down tears and the bile in your stomach, so why not?

Out of spite, always a good motivator, you married Jimmy and things only got worse.

The hostility between you and Clyde was becoming so clear that everyone took notice and no one could quite understand it. Mellie had a good idea, but she hoped she was wrong.

You had refused to talk about kids several times. You knew you couldn’t push it off forever, but you were trying to convince Jimmy there was no need to rush. The truth was that the thought of having anyone’s babies other than Clyde’s made your heart wilt in your chest.

So one night, when you were sitting in the brand new bar Clyde was now running, Jimmy had a few and opened up while you were seeing Mellie out. Something in Clyde snapped in two, his heart broke and it finally broke _open_ , all the things he had been repressing erupting in him. And he sent Jimmy packing, assuring him he would talk to you – nicely, he promised, no more of that hostility – and get to the bottom of it.

You started off lying, saying how you really weren’t even sure you wanted children, leading into confiding in him that you were ready to get divorced over that, if Jimmy kept pressuring you.

It was your prerogative, Clyde noted, feeling his old anger again, letting it slip that you should have gotten divorced a long time ago, or never even gotten married.

He was in no position to tell you what to do.

No, he wasn’t and you could go to Hell. He wished you never even stepped into his life.

You wished it too. You wished you never worried about him and got sucked into a life where you had to watch him be the way he was now.

Well, you could very well walk the fuck out of his life. It would make everything much easier on him.

What was hard on him? He had the support of his family, a business and a loving wife? Why was he so angry? And angry at you? What had you ever done?

You married his fucking brother and now he had to see you all the time, think of how he gets to be with you and he just has to shut up about it. He’s loved you his whole life and he was now in a position even worse than not having you.

That shut you up good.

Forget it, please, forget he said anything. He would never say another word about it. Don’t think badly of him. Don’t tell his brother, he would die of shame. Please, forgive him and forget he said anything at all.

You couldn’t speak for a while, too much shock, too much happiness and regret all at once.

He was so sorry. He was never going to say anything. It didn’t make any sense and you probably hated him more than ever, but please forgive him and he will never get in your way again; he’ll stay away, he’ll never snap at you, never talk to you, never look at you if you ask him to, but please, please…

No. Sorry, but no. You couldn’t do that. And you were angry, at yourself for allowing yourself to stack mistake upon mistake and at him for never speaking up until now. For marrying someone to hurt you, cutting off the nose to spite the face. And you were both equally guilty, but he couldn’t ask you to forget the one thing that made you happy in years.

Once he cried, you had to wipe the tears away.

Once you touched him, he had to look at you. Finally getting the chance to look at you honestly, the way he wanted to, not masking anything it front of anyone else.

Once he looked at you, you had to touch him. Ever since his injury, you couldn’t hold him and tell him you loved him and things would be okay.

Once you touched him, he had to kiss you. Had to know what it was like to kiss the woman he loved, something that had been a luxury he could never afford until then.

Once you kissed, it was over, there was no stopping. You made love on one of the pool tables and you sustained some very uncomfortable chaffing that made you smile in the days to come.

It was disrespectful, it was reckless and awful, and the best night of your entire life. Whatever else you might say about it, it got the job done of making you forget about the divorce or your hang-ups about kids. Never a peep about it again. Suddenly, you were the best of friends and Gleema and Jimmy thought all their prayers had been answered.

“M’sorry.” – Clyde whimpered, rolling around on his back, head still in your lap, wanting to look you in the eyes and apologize. For everything he had done before and for his outburst this morning.

“I’m sorry too.” – you said back easily and earnestly, knowing you had both been equally stupid and young and hurtful, and even now, as you were doing unforgivable things, blessed or cursed with the good fortune of getting away with it, getting away with so much more than anyone should.

“I love ya. I love ya more than anythin’.” - he said, reaching up his hand to stroke your face, you taking it without hesitation. – “You and the boys.” – he added, without thinking, heart skipping a beat.

The boys.

They were his.

He already knew that, he knew instinctively yesterday, but the weight of that realization only hit him now.

Billy looked so much like you, had your eyes, you lips… He was the most beautiful boy. And Alex was all him. He and their ma. Clyde looked a whole lot like momma Logan and his son inherited all the same features as he, the freckles and moles, the full lips and stunning hair. That was how you got away with it. How no one suspected. No one but Mellie.

She would berate you occasionally, when Clyde was loving on the boys too much while refusing to have kids with Gleema. When you looked at him with stars in your eyes for too long. She threatened to tell them both about your affair, but she was backed into the same corner of Jimmy being her brother and not wanting to break those two people’s hearts.

So the charade continued.

*

You had left for work, accepting this would be one of the bad days. One of the days when your deeds caught up to you and you had to look at yourself in the mirror and admit you were a selfish, immoral, cheating piece of shit who was right on the edge of ruining so many lives.

Those were never fun.

Clyde went into the bar, the one place that was familiar and unchanged, except now memories from this life flooded him, and all the encounters you had there danced in front of his eyes. Were it not for the fact that you were married to other people, you were the perfect couple. Head over heels and letting nothing keep you apart. Sarah, you abominable fucking bitch, Clyde shook his head sadly.

He had a big decision in front of him.

The choice should have been obvious. Get out, use his wish to modify what was wrong here. But Sarah seemed impossible to beat. Whatever he asked for, he got the worst version of it. And she had a point about nothing being perfect and him having to deal with his choices and make them work.

So was there any way to make this work?

Were it not for the boys, he would have bailed. No question. In his right mind, he would never let a woman come in between himself and his brother. But he was no longer in his right mind. And he had kids with you – something so spectacular he had never even dared wish for it. So it was no longer as easy to just leave.

“Doin’ some thinkin’, big bear?” – Sarah asked, perched on a bar stool, dressed in a similar outfit you had been wearing as the biker chick, when you took him to the cabin and…

“What’re you doin’ here?” – Clyde managed to ask, before his brain got totally clouded by anger. She had never inserted herself into his wishes before. What new fuckery was this?

“I can see yer strugglin’ a whole lot here and I think I have information ya might wanna know.” – she winked, pulling down her aviator shades and shucking off the leather jacket.

“M’sure ya do. I don’t wanna hear it.” – Clyde said, closing his eyes and trying to count to ten to calm down.

“This one turned out pretty good, didn’t it? ‘Cept for a few minor glitches.” - Sarah noted.

“It did.” - Clyde agreed spitefully. He didn’t want her to get to him and sway him. – “We’re in love and we can just get a divorce. Take it from there.” – he nodded, trying to assure himself.

“Gleema will fuckin’ die.” – she emphasized, smiling broadly. – “She feels so lucky to have ya, ya know that? Course ya do, she tells ya all the time and you remember yer life here now. She thought she would end up all alone. But ya saved ‘er.”

Clyde felt shame prick him as he rationalized. – “Sh-she can… find somebody else. We can all do that.” – he tried to tell himself, knowing it wasn’t likely to be true for his wife. No stable woman would have accepted to be in the kind of relationship he had offered her at the start. Besides, there he was, actively not taking his own advice, like the worst hypocrite.

“But Jimmy…” - Sarah brought up, practically, salivating. – “He would never forgive you. To know ya fucked ‘is wife. That she sneaks into yer trailer every other day. That those kids ain’t his…”

“Sarah, stop it.” – Clyde ordered, feeling close to losing control.

“I will, big bear.” – she immediately acquiesced, which was such a bad sign, Clyde knew it. – “I didn’t come here to hurt ya. In fact, I came to tell ya somethin’ that’ll make it much easier to decide.”

“I don’t wanna hear nothin’, Sarah, ya got that?” – Clyde backed away from the bar, knowing that running was futile.

“What I mean is, this’ll give ya an incentive to stay, big bear.” - she added, surprising Clyde. He was sure she just wanted him to leave and waste yet another wish. – “Just hear me out and you’ll see that this is very important to consider.”

Clyde was suspicious, but he stopped where he stood, swallowing nervously, knowing that there was no stopping her anyway.

“Jimmy drinks a whole lot in this universe.” – she started. – “Maybe he senses something is wrong deep down. You two dirty birdies hikin’ the Appalachian trail.” - she grinned at Clyde before continuing – “What if I told ya that in the next few months, he has an accident? Real bad one?” – she asked, eyebrows high and sad, eyes glinting happily.

“What’re ya sayin’?” – Clyde asked, eyes watering.

“I think ya know.”

“No. I don’t want that! I would never want that!” – Clyde shouted before the words were out of her mouth.

“Oh, I know, big bear!” – she comforted. – “S’not yer doin’! You didn’t wish for this. It’s just him. This is happenin’, it’s just how things play out in this universe.” – she shrugged, biting a long red nail.- “And then yer path’s clear to get ya girl. Ya literally don’t need to lift a finger. Not one o’the five ya got left.“

“What if I tell him? What I stop him?” – Clyde approached frantically.

“Huh. I thought ya’d say that.” – her eyebrow quirked. – “He can avoid it.” – she shrugged indifferently. –“And make it.”

“Alright, then.” – Clyde put a hand over his heart, feeling like he had run a marathon in these last few seconds. –“ I don’t hafta decide now and know immediately how everythin’ will work out.” – he sighed, swallowing down his anxiety. – “In some ways, this is the best situation yet. We love each other and we have kids.” - he explained to Sarah as if she didn’t know.

“Yeah, funny that ya mention those kids…. Ya remember that accident ya wanna prevent?” - Sarah asked ominously. – “Ya haven’t met Death yet, although you’ve been close… Those couple times in Iraq.” - she mentioned, as if it were inconsequential. – “She’s a real b-word,ya know, and I _don’t_ mean big bear. If ya take something from ‘er, she’ll want to get it back with interest.”

“What are ya tryna tell me?” - Clyde asked, hoping that what he was dreading was not true.

“I’m telling ya there is a universe where Jimmy survives the accident that’s supposed to take ‘im… But old habits die hard. Especially the bad ones. And that one night, he takes out the kids…”

“Stop!” – Clyde yelled, hands shooting up to cover his ear, one flesh, one cold and mechanic, keeping no noise out.

“What, ya don’t wanna hear how it ends?”

“Stop it , Sarah!” – Clyde yelled again, grabbing a bottle and smashing it against the counter, pointing the jagged edges at her in threat.

“Alright.” - Sarah got up off the stool, hands in the air. – “I can see yer upset, big bear. I’ve given ya a lot to think about. You just call me if ya ever want to leave.” – she winked again before putting the aviators back on and leaving.

*

Clyde couldn’t stand to be alone with his thoughts. In the past week, he felt like he was to close to losing his mind more than once, but never this intensely. He couldn’t feel his body, his mind was not his own at all anymore. He was sure he wouldn’t be able to speak, even thinking felt impossible.

He followed his feet, which seemed to be telling him where he wanted to go.

He found himself in front of Gleema’s building, flowers and chocolates in hand, texting her to meet him outside.

Saying, lying, how he loved her, how she was the best wife, how she deserves the world, how she made his life so much better, worth living. How he didn’t deserve everything she did for him. How she could do anything.

Next, he drove by Mel’s, apologizing for burdening her with the terrible weight of keeping your detestable secret. It wasn’t fair and he wouldn’t continue to do that to her or anyone else. He left as she begged him not to do whatever he was thinking, not to be rash, to leave well enough alone – even if well enough was terrible.

When he reached Jimmy’s work site, it was close to knocking off time. You would be getting home any moment now, boys in hand. Clyde hugged his brother, not caring he was sweaty and dirty, or surprised to see him. It wasn’t Clyde’s habit to just show up, especially only to hug Jimmy and tell him how much he loves him, esteems and appreciates him, how his brother saved his life and kept their family together. He let Clyde talk, knowing that there was always a reason for his moods and his words, even if he didn’t understand them.

So finally, Clyde set off for your house, Jimmy’s house. He knocked on the door and you were surprised to find him there. He didn’t bother explaining anything, just wrapped his arms around your waist and held you close. Way too close, way too intimate.

“Clyde!” – you gasped. – “Someone could see!’ – you warned, struggling to pull away from his embrace to no avail.

“I don’t care. It doesn’t matter, darlin’.” – he shook his head, face buried in your shoulder. – “I need t’see the boys.” – he said in a tone that, though you thought it wasn’t prudent, left no room for discussion.

The boys came running out, almost knocking him over as they collided with him into an enthusiastic hug. He ran his fingers through Billy’s hair while he wrapped his other arm around Alex, holding him close.

“I love ya so much, boys.” – he said, turning from one to the other. – “With my whole heart.”

“We know, uncle Clyde.” – Billy giggled. They were showered with love by the entire family, it was no foreign concept to them at all. They knew uncle Clyde was the best uncle in the whole world and they adored him.

“Are you okay?” – Alex, the more sensitive of the two, asked, his little eyebrows pinched in concentration as he tried to understand what Clyde meant in saying this obvious fact. Clyde let him reach out his warm hand and tickle his forehead as he moved some hair out of the way to look into his eyes. Clyde’s own eyes boring into him from his son’s head.

“I’m fine, honey. I just hafta talk to yer ma for a bit.” – he forced a smile, feeling copious tears already filling his eyes as the smile reached high enough on his face.

“Okay.” – Alex accepted, giving him the quickest, lightest peck on the lips, Billy following suit before they ran off. They only kissed you, Jimmy and Clyde like that, Mellie and Gleema getting pecks on the cheek.

When the kids were safely inside, Clyde stood up and kissed you shamelessly, in full view of anyone who might walk way, you trying to pry him off you gently, but decisively. - “What are you…”

He held your face close, forehead pressed up to yours, talking before you could protest any more. – “M’sorry I didn’t fight for ya in time. I didn’t fight for ya the right way. I will from now on, I promise.” – he stole another kiss, too anxious and needy to let the opportunity pass him by.

“Sarah, get me outta here.” - he whispered into your lips, wanting to hold you as long and as close as he could, just in case this turned out to be the only universe in which you were the mother of his children and where you loved him so much you would do anything it took to be with him.


	11. Prompt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A prompt has turned my world upside down, so I had to write something about it <3  
> Hi! I heard a song that is essentially the exact opposite of Bedazzled and now I’m having a very specific thought. SO I’m imagining Clyde getting back from his last wish and Sarah is there (trying to seduce him as always) dressed up as a 50’s pinup and Jimmie Rogers’ “The Wizard” playing on the radio just to taunt him. The guy in the song gets everything he wishes for with just a snap of his fingers and poor Clyde just can’t get it right. It’s a weird song but I thought I’d share it anyway! ❤️❤️

**[The song](https://youtu.be/oCBofw2GZuo) **

*

What a hideous sight.

If wishing really did anything, how dearly would Clyde like to wish for this rancid bitch to dissolve and never enter his bar again. But there she was.

Sarah Grayson. With her flaming red lips, curled bangs and polka dotted dress, lounging across his bar, hiking up the already too short dress to show off her garters and the no underwear she had on.

“My big bear is sad. Come ‘ere.” – she said, sitting up and beckoning him over with her extended arms. He could fucking choke her. A bonus being she was unkillable, so he could choke her for hours, until he wore himself completely out.

“Oh, ya could.” – Sarah crossed her legs, rubbing them together and licking her lips. – “Choke, spank, spit, whatever comes to mind. Just makes it better. Dunno why ya don’t give it ya girl all hard and nasty like that, m’sure she’d…” – she got what she wanted, with Clyde striding over and wrapping his meaty flesh hand all around her throat, squeezing her vocal chords till she fell silent, fury blazing in his dark eyes.

_Before ya damage this body – all supple and wet and brand new, for the record – why don’t we have a quick dance ‘round yer pretty li’l bar and ya tell me whacha wanna do apropos yer last wish? –_ Sara’s voice sounded in his head as her face started to change color, the pressure building in her head making her eyes roll back and close.

As if blown back by a forceful wind, Clyde found himself in a clearing between a few tables, a frenetic old timey tune making him disoriented as the room seemed to spin around him, anchored only by Sarah’s firm hands, holding him claw-like around the back of his neck and one sliding into his back pocket and groping.

_*_

_One day I met a wizard, many years ago._

_He was very, very old. He was very, very wise._

_He told me a secret, many years ago:_

_How to live, how to love, how to win the golden prize._

Clyde knew it was mistake to close his eyes, it would only make him dizzier and sick, but the room was spinning too fast, the colors flashing in streaks around him felt maddening, so he grabbed Sarah around the waist to try to balance and thought about that first night. How she had her way with him in every regard possible, and how it easy it was for her. All her subsequent maneuvers, the insinuations, the tawdry remarks and tasteless outfits, always exactly missing what made women appealing and only wearing the feathers of a rare bird she could never be.

But she did make one good point. _“I’m the devil. I ain’t here to hold yer hand. Every life that you create for yerself is gonna have challenges. Jus’ like this one does. Ya gotta decide if ya wanna face ‘em. What ya lack, Clyde, is faith. Not the perfect wish.”_ Of course, that revelation only came to him when it was far too late. But that was the one time she wasn’t lying.

*

_Tell 'em what the wizard says. Tell 'em what the wizard says._

_All you have to do is snap your fingers._

_Make a wish and snap your fingers._

_That's what you have to do._

_And your wishes will all come true._

Ha. If it weren’t an abysmal tragedy, it would be funny. How many wishes had he had, spoken or thought, and did any of them ever come true?

When his childhood dog was dying and he was too young to remember all the words to the prayers his meema taught him, he thought maybe that was the reason why he died in the end, because he couldn’t pray for him right.

By the time his ma was sick, he knew all the prayers, but his faith had dwindled. He tried to believe in doctors and the care and love of his family as the cure for her illness. Wishing did nothing to stop her going.

When he wished and hoped for Jimmy to recover, miraculously, he thought with a bitter taste in his mouth, it never happened.

Wishing for his health to restore fully after the mine was fruitless too; he never felt quite the same and he still couldn’t look down and not remember the moments when he felt more dead than alive, or the first time he saw his mangled limb.

The only wish that ever came true was to somehow have enough money to keep his family secure; only because Jimmy risked everything for it.

_Yer wishes will all come true_. Right.

*

_One day I met a maiden with honey-colored hair._

_There never was a maiden so beautiful somewhere._

_The first time that I kissed her, I promised her my life._

_And I wondered how to win her, to win her for my wife._

When you first came to his bar, he said a silent thank you to the universe. That he had this little watering hole and that he could just sit back and have you return to him again and again.

He couldn’t say why – and maybe some things just don’t have a why to be spoken of – but he was head over heels from the first moment. Hand shaking as he fixed up your drink. Your voice making his heart pick up. Skin on fire, just that one little brush against his fingers as you took the drink made his knees wobble and he was so close to just collapsing in an amorous heap on the floor.

It might sound insane or sad to others, and no one person is the answer to everything - they shouldn’t be - but he was a weak and lonely man and it seemed like nothing could make him as happy as you.

*

_Remember what the wizard said. Remember what the wizard said._

_All you have to do is snap your fingers._

_Make a wish and snap your fingers._

_That's what you have to do._

_And your wishes will all come true._

Clyde thought about refusing Sarah – after all, how crazy did it all sound? And even if the impossible were true, how do you give away your soul? What remains after?

He remembered all the fire and brimstone stories his meema told them, mostly aiming them at the reckless Jimmy, but the stories only had the effect of making the thicker-skinned brother laugh and the gentler younger one dread every action in case it condemned him to an eternity of fire and torture.

But after that first snippet of a vision Sarah showed him, when you were all pretty for him, and he put his hands on you, and he felt your lips on his, there was nothing that could hold him back. Nothing he wouldn’t do to get more. A soul felt like nothing compared to having what he wanted most.

*

_The day that we were married, I remember it so well._

_I remember how I kissed her as the orange blossom fell._

_I remember how I whispered as I held her tenderly._

_Now that we are married, we must raise a family._

In his first wish, he only got to see how it was all falling apart. Now he had images of your wedding day - how you marred his General self, back when he was a Lieutenant, before his hair was graying, with all your family in Florida, in an orange grove.

He loved you and you were so smitten; he was big and strong and impressive and respected, and he was proud to be a husband you could brag about.

He promised you a family, but instead he grew distant. Just to maintain his position or to keep advancing, it took so much time and effort. And he was doing it for the both of you.

Even when he knew you were being chased by other men, even when you let some catch you. At least he would have you on paper and you would be quiet and satisfied.

He wondered just how many of his wasted wishes he could have fixed.

*

_Remember what the wizard said. Remember what the wizard said._

_All you have to do is snap your fingers._

_Make a wish and snap your fingers._

_That's what you have to do._

_And your wishes will all come true._

The one he still pined for the most, and regretted not being able to keep, was the free spirit who turned his life upside down. How he wanted to surrender to her completely and let her have him whenever she wanted, however she wanted. That wish seemed to rip out his heart and rearrange it somehow; he hadn’t felt that loved in such a long time, so fiercely and desperately, on a shrinking timeline, making everything more intense.

He was grateful now for the brief vision of how he met this passionate you, so alive and so loving.

You came into his bar, shaking out your hair after a long stretch under a helmet. He found out over the course of the night that you used it more to block out the wind and given your riding, a helmet wouldn’t save you anyway if an accident occurred.

You were talkative, perfectly willing to tell him about all your travels and adventures, sharing and giving him whatever he asked for, and you in turn asked about interesting stuff around this area. He offered stories about its history and reluctantly peppered in some supernatural ones – his personal favorite – delighted to find your eyes growing wide and twinkling with interest, quickly making plans to take you to the Mothman Museum.

You informed him it was a date and hung off his arm all day, laughing your tinkling laugh and kissing him suddenly as he told you about his uncle’s freak electrocution. You always spoke so lovingly, from the first day, telling him how beautiful he was, how he made you feel, how much you loved him inside of you – when he made you hurt and stretch and cry from the intensity of it all, how you could just watch him clean glasses or sleep.

If he barely let you go after that first vision, he felt like a part of his heart died all over again seeing more and realizing how deeply you loved him and what you were willing to do for him.

*

_Today we're all together, a family of four._

_The girl and boy I wished for are playing on the floor._

_And one day when they're older, I'll hold 'em on my knee._

_And I'll them the secret that the wizard told to me._

The last memory was already shrouded in so much pain. He got practically all he could ever want; your undying love, pushing against and through any obstacle, even beautiful children that were so perfectly a blend of the both of you and a sense of belonging to you completely, just as he wanted for so long.

But what he had to do, all the betrayal that led up to it and the loss of any semblance of soul or morality, made his heart constrict painfully, even as he remembered his own children smiling up at him or hugging him, or you holding him, legs around his waist, whispering how much you loved him.

After he left that life, he considered what it would mean to wish to die. Surely, it wouldn’t absolve him of his contract, that would be too easy.

And if he wished for people to be happy or not to miss him or something else he intended for their benefit and wellbeing, Sarah would surely find a way to still hurt them. So he abandoned the idea, even though, selfishly, that’s what he would really want. To die, just fall out of existence and not have to remember the cocktail of joy and heartbreak, clashing and warring in him, the human body too frail to sustain the battle. He wished for another mine to blow his body to smithereens this time and release all that tension in him, just lift the burden of choice – and the regret of wrong choices – from his shoulders and be done with it all before he did anything worse.

*

_Tell 'em what the wizard said. Tell 'em what the wizard said._

_All you have to do is snap your fingers._

_Make a wish and snap your fingers._

_That's what you have to do._

_And your wishes... will all come true._

The room finally stopped as the song quieted, Clyde panting and feeling all his insides still spinning, a cold sweat breaking out as he clung to Sarah, trying to find his feet and a secure stance.

“My sad, sad bear.” – she said with no real sympathy, a smile audible in her voice as he smoothed his damp hair and pushed harder into him, willing his body to respond to hers. – “Ya know ya can wish for so much. Yer wishes are so good.” – she reassured, pressing her painted lips into his as he struggled to regain some equilibrium and step away. – “She always loves ya, y’know.” – she said in a low, seductive voice, leaving red stamps he could feel on his lips and the surrounding skin, making his gut twist. – “M’sure you’ll get it right this last time. Yer always so close--”

“I know what my last wish is.” – Clyde stepped away, wobbly, but determined, holding her wrist hard and yanking it away from his neck.


End file.
